


In which Tony makes a new friend, and learns life lessons about fingers and plug sockets

by Skull_Bearer



Series: Sex, Love and Robotics [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha Rhodey, Alpha Steve Rogers, Dummy is lethal with a paintball gun, Gen, Jarvis has a freakout, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Omegaverse, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Rhodey is in charge of the Avengers, SHIELD isn't evil but they really need to work on their PR, Steve is bisexual in every universe, Steve learns important lessons about Tony Stark and keeping secrets, Tony is only trying to help, don't, pre-avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skull_Bearer/pseuds/Skull_Bearer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is building his own superhero team, and even manages to steal a recruit from under SHIELD's nose. And if the guy can't so much as tell Tony his name... well, how bad could it really be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In which Tony makes a new friend, and learns life lessons about fingers and plug sockets

**Author's Note:**

> So after watching Civil War, the sheer scale of how AU this fic would have to become reassured me to continue writing this. Zemo? Stupidest. Plan. Ever. 
> 
> Thank you to oopsishipit for beta reading this monster.

“There’s one here,” Tony picks up the invoice.

“You did that last month;” Pepper stretches, arms cracking above her head. Tony winces, that godawful little voice _you’re getting old_.

He shoves it away, grabs another scrap of paper. “What about-“

“We took care of that one;” Pepper yawns, “We’ve been filing threats on your behalf- hand over the weapons or Iron Man takes you out.”

“You’re no fun.” Tony looks down at the discarded sheets. The remains of Stane’s weapons racket. “You steal my fun-“

“I’m allowed some;” even tired as she is, he sees a hint of a knife in Pepper’s smile, her red hair topples down around her face and Tony wants to just- lean over, push it back.

He closes his hands, and they don’t need to be fists any more. He looks around for more boxes to sort through- more targets for Iron Man-

“There aren’t any more.” Pepper’s smile is softer, sweeter. “I filed the last one half an hour ago- all gone, in the past.”

It’s a- a weird sort of hollow feeling. Like something inside him had just vanished and it didn’t hurt exactly, but it felt _empty_.

The guilt had been there, the pain of Yinsen’s death and the countless thousands who’d died at the hands of his weapons and the disastrous mess he’d allowed Stane to make of the company. It had been the fire and anger, the screamed defiance of Iron Man, the driving rage that had kept him flying on twenty-eight hour missions.

He looks down at his hands, flexes them, feels the phantom weight of gauntlets. He suddenly wants to be in the familiar bulk of the amour, shut away from a confusing and suddenly bereft world.

“Tony?” Pepper is looking at him, face still and oddly- wistful. “You’ve done it.” Her voice is soft. “You beat them.”

Tony nods, it should feel good. And it will, when he’s had time to sort through this, when the world makes a little more sense and feels a little less- lost.

“No one would think-“ Pepper catches her breath, exhales and seems to sort through her thoughts. “If you wanted to-“

Tony can feel the words, waiting in the air. A bridge between them and all he needs is to reach out and-

No.

“Guess I’m gonna have to farm Iron Man out.” He forces enthusiasm into his voice, sits up; “Jarv?”

"Yes sir?"

“Do a sweep of police alerts, FEMA emergencies- wars, fires, natural disasters, alien invasions-” he grins at Pepper, who rolls her eyes.

Is it just him, or does she look a little relieved too? Tony exhales, feels the last ashes of their- whatever they had- blow away. It’s bittersad, and a relief.

“Well, at least they won’t be shooting at you.” Pepper sighs. “Remember, we want to get the tower off the grid by Thursday- I don’t want to hear you’ve been too busy helping old ladies across the road-“

The suit’s ready to go; Tony gets up and twirls. “Granny’ll never want to get off this ride.” He steps into the boots, the metal plates clinking and snapping around him.

Pepper smiles as she gathers the remains of the paperwork. Her eyes are dull and heavy, and Tony feels a pang. Is this what Pepper felt, watching him in his workshop night after night?

Is this what being an adult feels like? Tony isn’t sure if he likes it. Then again, he isn’t sure if he doesn’t like it. He’s going out to play at- scratch that- to _be_ a superhero. He can afford to be a _little_ bit adult in his spare time.

“Will that be all, Mr Stark?”

“That’s all, Ms Potts.” Tony sighs, “Get some sleep, okay?”

“Don’t blow up New York.” She yawns again.

“I’ll make sure you get a lie in- no emergency or stock-market crashes.” Tony promises, and jumps backwards off Stark Tower.

Flying in Miami is one thing. Flying in _New York_ is- oh fuck oh fuck _oh fuck_ -

Tony drops just below the line of the buildings and he can’t help the grin spreading across his face. Iron Man flashes past on his right as he skims beside the glass-fronted buildings. He spirals up over Times Square and- is something going on down there? Tony spins upside down for a better looks- but the place is swarming with cops and officials, not much for him to do.

Tony regretfully spins upright, and soars off into the night. “Jarvis? Patch me in.”

The first calls they follow are dead-ends, the police have caught the crooks- or they’ve vanished- or problems Tony doubts he’ll be able to help with- drunks, domestic violence, lost pets.

But around three AM, there’s a fire.

It’s not the first fire he’s overheard, but it’s the worst. Some rambling old building with no fire escape and wooden interiors dry as paper. The building is blazing when Tony gets there and circles. There are people still in there, the fire brigade is struggling to get to the people in the buildings, but the fire is so fierce they can’t get close.

Tony needs to get them something for that- not a full suit, but some sort of protective clothing. He arches over the crumbling roof, and smashes in through a window.

The inside is an inferno of red and black. The heat sinks in through the joints of his suit, turns the gold and red of his suit into blazing scarlet and orange.

He doesn’t dare test the smoldering floorboards; skimming between the walls; the far end of the corridor is still mostly untouched; but the smoke is smothering. Tony hears the ventilation in his suit kick up a few more notches and he shoves the door open.

There are five people in the room. Three adults, two kids. They are crammed around the window for fresh air. A child is screaming as she is hung outside the window, the adults trying to lower her to the desperate firefighters seven stories down.

They stare at Tony comes in. He lands, and shrugs at their incredulous looks. What, do they think he’s about to blow them up?

“Come on, once-in-a-lifetime-chance for a Iron Man ride.” Tony opens his arms.

Two of the adults just stare. But the third- Omega, hauls his daughter up and all but throws her at Tony. His eyes are wide and blind and terrified and not for himself. Tony feels- something lost- lock inside his throat.

“Come on.” It comes out softer than he means in, “Let’s get out of here.”

He cradles the girl in one arm. She knots little fists around his shoulder, her legs around his elbow. Tony puts his arm around the Omega man, who grabs the girl to steady her.

The other girl needs no convincing; she hugs Tony’s leg, and when he picks her up, she’s grinning.

Oh hey, a fan. “You wanna fly with Iron Man?” She nods furiously.

He motions the two Alphas over, and they hurry over. One he tucks under an arm, the other hangs on to his back. If Tony is planning to do this full time, he really needs to install handles on this thing, maybe he could tuck them away under panels for when they’re needed-

“Hang on.” The ground is creaking under their combined weight. The flames are starting to claim the door and the smoke is thicker than ever. “Going out the window.” He shifts an armful of Omega and girl; and blasts out the wall with a repulsor.

It’s the last straw for the ruined building. Tony tightens his grip on his hitchhikers, and dives out of the window as the floor crashes away under them.

It’s the worst flight he had since the giant doughnut fiasco six months ago. He can’t use his hands to steady himself, and the added weight of an Omega, two Alphas, and two kids is throwing him dangerously wide. He kicks a foot out to knock them back in line, and almost knocks them back into the blazing building. Tony grits his teeth and the little girl shrieks. Kicks back and they jolt down a bit further, aiming for the pavement. The woman on his back is losing her grip. Tony can hear her scrabbling around his helmet for purchase- “Hang on!”

The fire surges, but this time it’s inside him. He’s watching Yinsen die. He’s watching Gulmira being blown to bits. The pilot is falling from the sky, the parachute not opening-

No. Not again. Not on my watch. No.

Tony hits the ground too hard. The jolt shakes his armor and punches into his back. Tony swears and Jarvis thankfully doesn’t broadcast that. His passengers topple on to the fire-reflecting concrete. The Alpha woman throws up, the little girl starts crying. Tony looks at them and- this, he isn’t any good at. He’s horrendous at comforting people at the best of time, and that’s not in a suit of armor.

He glances around, and the firefighters are rushing over, ambulances wailing in their wake. Tony glances at them, shrugs. The other little girl is grinning at him, all but bouncing. “You wanna be a superhero?”

She nods hard.

Tony glances at the sirens, leans down, “Give it a few years.” He fires up the repulsors, and soars off.

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately, he can’t keep the suit on forever. He’s not sure he could even wear a second layer of clothes in here. 

Tony growls, only just managing to squeeze through the gap into the prototype reactor to fix whatever those _phenomenal_ idiots managed to jar loose in the transport from fucking _Malibu_ to New York. It’s not like he’s asking them to trek it across fucking Mongolia-

“They did their best.” Pepper’s voice comes from behind him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Ah, there it is, some wiring that had detached. Tony jams the screwdriver between his teeth, and starts fitting them back in. “Wassshi?”

“It can wait.”

Oh fuck, what’s he done now? He’d thought it would look _good_. Other millionaires just give money to charity. Tony gives money, has his own charities, and fights crime as his full-time job. Even _Batman_ doesn’t do that and he isn't even real.

Finally, the wires are in place, Jarvis runs a few tests to check they’re secure, and he slowly squirms out.

Pepper is leaning against the wall, looking amused. _Fuck_ , she’s holding a paper.

“What did I do now?” Tony sighs, and tries to work a kink out of his shoulder.

“Look at this.” She hands him the paper.

She must have been leafing through it because the first page Tony gets is something about the mess in Times Square a few weeks back- some musclehead going berserk on Saturday night, how is this news?- He turns it over to page one and- okay.

It’s him. The photo isn’t bad, for all it’s from a mobile- Starkphone, hah- he’s hovering above the pine tree and you can just about see the cat clinging to the trunk. After helping out with muggings, robberies, fires and everything New York could throw at him, it was saving a fucking kitten that made him nearly give up.

The pine tree was dead and Tony had spent three hours trying to get at the goddamn cat in a way that wouldn’t set the whole thing up in flames. He’d have just gotten in place and the tabby kitten would just _move_ and Tony was about 99.99% done and handing this over to the firebrigade before he accidentally barbequed the fucking thing.

But he’d gotten it down, finally.

“This is bad?” Tony glances at Pepper. “Do they think I ate it, or something? I mean, little boy got his kitty back, Iron Man saves the day-“

“It’s not bad.” Pepper is grinning. “It’s adorable. I’m putting it up in my office.”

“Are you trying to embarrass me sounds?” Tony raises an eyebrow. “Pep, I’ve been drunk, drugged, naked, naked drunk drugged and with three naked people-“

“You’re embarrassed.” Pepper grins, “It’s going behind my desk. I want everyone to see it.”

“You have a choice of like a _million_ incriminating pictures and you pick this?” Tony feels hot pricks run down his scalp. “Seriously Pep, you’re losing your touch-“

“Reverse psychology doesn’t work, Tony.” Pepper tries to take the paper and Tony resists. “Give it here.”

“Sure, take it.” Tony shoves it at her, turns away to sulk. “Like I care, put it up all over town-”

“I will.”

Tony waits until she’s out of the way before slumping back against the wall and groaning, long and miserable.

“Sir?”

“Please forget all about that. Wipe it from your systems and find a way of wiping it from everyone’s systems.”

“Yes sir.” Liar. “You have a message from SHIELD, they want you to come in.”

“Fury?” His day couldn’t get worse.

“No, Coulson.”

Okay, that might be okay.

“He congratulates you on the heroic rescue.”

Goddamit.

 

* * *

 

Coulson must hate kittens, there's no other explanation. He hates kittens and wants to take it out on Tony 

"I know you don't like playing with others, Stark, but-"

"I love playing with others! Just ask Rhodey- that was the best game of tag ever. What I _don't_ like is being put under the orders of some random Alpha because you are too chickenshit to let an Omega run a superhero team!"

"Believe me, it has nothing to do with you being an Omega, and everything to do with you being, well, _you_."

"Oh spare me, you want a superhero team, you put a superhero in charge. Are there any other superheroes around? I mean, okay, there's Rhodey-" Tony pauses. "Wait, is it Rhodey? Because, okay- he’s never gonna let me live it down but-"

 _But Rhodey deserves it_. He manages not to say.

But Coulson shakes his head, and Tony's dilemma is neatly solved. "So, who've you got?" Tony puts his feet on the desk because _fuck Shield_. "Natalie- sorry, _Natasha_ \- no, she's still at Stark Industries cleaning toilets with a toothbrush. What about Banner? Oops, no, he's a Omega too, right? And _I'm_ too busy rescuing people from burning buildings and stopping bank robberies to be considered, apparently. Who does that leave? Did you manage to get Superman, even though he's, you know, _not real-_ "

"When you've finished Stark;" Coulson sighs. "The team leader's identity is _classified_. You'll know when you need to know."

Tony feels something cold and sick and irrational ping at the base of his spine. He glances at his phone.

 _Nothing yet sir_ flashes up.

Tony sighs, this guy must be pretty fucking buried if Jarvis is having a hard time. Jesus fuck, _why is he even doing this?_ These people treat him like crap, this whole fucking department was started by Howard Stark- why isn't he just giving them the middle finger and fucking off to found his own superhero team? He could probably get Banner onboard, and Natasha must have some monster crush on Pepper to still be embedded? there after the toilet situation.

"You're losing me, agent," he warns.

To his shock, Coulson _shrugs_ , like Tony Starks are ten a dollar. "Whatever you want."

Maybe it's reverse psychology, but he really doesn't seem to care. This Alpha must be something shit hot to risk losing Tony for. Tony's designing their fucking Helicarrier for fuck's sake.

He still wants to leave, and maybe there's a childish part of him who does want to throw a hissy fit and take his ball and go home. But there's a bigger, even more childish part which want to prove them all _wrong_ and tiny adult Tony just about gives up at about that point.

"Fine." He spits, and gets up. Whatever, when he meets this Alpha, he'll toss a few million at him to name Tony team leader and that'll be it. Fuck them, fuck this team- "Fuck you."

He tries to slam the door, but it's on one of those slow close things and barely moves. He storms out.

Tony flicks his phone open. "Anything?"

“Nothing yet, I am having problems locating the correct folder. They are not firewalled, but there are so many-“

Godammit. "Fine, keep at it." And, because Tony is still feeling disgustingly guilty. "You're doing a great job, Jarv."

“Thank you sir.”

Tony feels like someone in a comic, the kind with a thought bubble filled with bloody axes and skulls and crossbones above his head. He is entirely in the mood to punch the first Alpha he meets and kick them in that vaunted knot. Fuck the entire lot of them-

And _of course_ , that's the point the universe likes to fuck with Tony. Like after the kitten rescue when he was entirely on board to sign onto mass euthanasia of the blasted things, the _first fucking_ thing he saw when he got home was an interview with the little kid and he had that kitten with him and it really was the most adorable thing. It looked up and mugged the goddam camera and just _mewed_ and he swears the whole of New York _awwed_ at the same time

So he donated a million to a no-kill centre instead and got back to trying to buff claw-marks out of the paintwork.

And right now, just as he's about to say ' _fuck the lot of you_ ' to a whole gender, he turns the corner and sees the saddest, most pathetic Alpha in the world.

Not that the dude isn't impressive; six foot whatever blond beefcake who looks like he should be shoveling straw or maybe rescuing kittens himself. But the guy is the picture of misery, chewing his lower lip and pecking away at an ancient keyboard- since when does SHIELD even use desktops?

As Tony watches, he sighs, stretches and runs his fingers through golden-blond hair. It's already sticking up everywhere.

Goddamn Tony and his soft heart. It must come with being a superhero because he's _sure_ he used to be more of an asshole. He sidles around the guy to see what's making him look so lost, and his jaw drops.

Okay, fuck superheroing- this is a crime against _humanity_.

"Where did you even _get_ that?" It slips out before he's aware of it.

Blondie jumps, spins around. He stares at Tony and jumps again, hand half-coming out before he stops it suddenly, then closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

"Um," Tony hesitates, "Okay."

"Sorry," funny, Tony was expecting something like a Mid-Western accent, with his farmboy looks, but this guy is pure Brooklyn, "I- didn't see you."

Tony isn't sure what to say but- oh fuck that _computer whhhhy?_

"Who gave you this? And how did you piss them off this badly?" Tony taps tentatively at the keyboard, turns the screen to check and yep, rainbow apple.

"Is it- not good?" The guy's looking at him now, a side-eye.

"Not- this is older than you are. Hell, it's probably older than _I_ am, but don't tell anyone. What were you even trying to do with it?"

The man sighs, "Trying to find the internet."

"Well, I've got your problem right here." Tony taps the ancient apple mac, "This probably predates the internet. Was this some kind of weird SHIELD prank?"

"I thought it might be." The man rubs his face. "I wasn't sure, but- thanks."

"No problem." For a moment, the guy just looks at him. It's the weirdest look Tony's ever seen, like he's trying to read something into Tony's face. "Um, do you just not know computers?"

"No." He sighs again. "I'm just- it's just- gotten away from me."

It's nothing in what he's said, just the _way_ he says it. There's a world of anger and pain and just plain _bad_ there and- yeah, Tony knows that feeling.

"You're not gonna catch up with it using this thing." Tony switches the screen off. "This is so backwards it's almost cool. You could probably make a bit selling it to people who like retro kitch."

Somehow that's even _worse_ and the guy's shoulders slump and- it's weird, he's six-four at least and his biceps are bigger than Tony's thigh, but suddenly he looks five-nothing and a hundred years old.

Trust Tony to put his foot in it. "Hey, fuck whoever gave you this." He tries to salvage something- he's a superhero, dammit, he's supposed to have stopped making things worse by meddling with them. "I can have a word with Fury, get you hooked up to something new-"

The man shakes his head. "Forget it. He- he was the one who assigned this to me."

Tony double-takes. "What did you _do_?" He's impressed, Fury hasn't tried something like that on him.

Then again, maybe Fury wouldn't dare.

The man shrugs, "It's classified." he says dully.

Must have been one motherfucker of a mess. Tony likes this guy already. "Here." He hands the guy his Starkpad.

The man looks at it. "Um- thanks?" He takes it gingerly and prods at the darkened screen.

"That's not how- you don't know a tablet? _Seriously_?"

"Call me old-fashioned." The man's free hand is clenched in his lap. Tony tenses; but nothing about him smells or sparks like a threat- he looks tired and miserable and yes, angry, but none of that's directed at Tony.

"Okay. Here." Tony turns it on for him. He flicks through the boot menu and selects _restore factory settings_. The Starkpad beeps and resets. "It's basically a mini computer. See? You touch the screen, there are the icons and this one's the internet. Here's Google. You know Google right?"

"I think so." The man is looking at the tablet a bit more brightly- as he should. It's a bangin' new model that'll hit the shelves next week and Tony is already looking forward to Pepper's improved mood when that hits the company shares. The man taps the searchbar gently and the keyboard pops up. He touches each key very tentatively.

"Hey, it won't break." Tony feels like he ought to point out. "It's new and improved gorilla glass."

"I'm pretty strong." The man looks up, and gives Tony a really nice smile. "Thanks. Can I borrow it for twenty minutes? I just want to look up a few things."

"Twenty-" Tony gaps. "Look, _keep it_ , it's yours! I've got like a hundred."

The man's eyes go wide. "I can't possibly-"

" _Take it!_ It's my life's work to wind Fury up. You wouldn't deny a man his life's work, would you?"

The man actually laughs. Laughs! It's small but it's there and- finally! Tony's done his superhero duty and cheered up the victims of technology. "I- alright. If you're really okay with it-"

Tony puts his hands behind his back until the man takes the tablet back. "Thank you." He says softly. There's something deep and yearning there that makes Tony shift, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Anyway- I'll let you get on to browsing porn or whatever. It's got virus protection but try not to fry it anyway, okay?" Tony nods and turns to go, reaching for his phone to check on Jarvis' progress.

"Wait!" Tony turns, big blond is standing, tablet almost iphone small in those massive hands. "Can I- get you lunch or something?"

Tony stiffens, feels a burst of warning heartbreak over his shoulders. _Hell no you don't_. He wishes he'd brought the suit.

The man seems to realise at once and tries to back off, bumps into his chair and sits down hard. Tony relaxes a little. "Not like that. Just- to say thanks for the neat computer thing?"

"Tablet." Tony corrects. He hesitates but-

He looks at the guy, carefully. Okay, he looks like he could snap Tony in half without trying but- he's been nice this far, right? And it'd be fun to have someone in SHIELD who's as sick of their shit as he is.

"Coffee," he says, "And none of that cafeteria piss, we're going to that place around the corner."

The guy looks down. "Uh- I'm kinda not allowed off grounds."

Tony _stares_ , the guy is giving him the worst sad puppy look and fuck, is Tony impressed. "What did you _do_?"

"I-" he shakes his head, "It's classified, I told you."

"Should have been on the news if Fury's _grounding_ you." Tony grins, "He hasn't tried that with me, and he _hates_ me."

The guy cocks an eyebrow, and yeah, there's a bit of mutual respect there. "SHIELD shit-list bros?" Tony lifts a fist for a bump.

He tentatively lifts a hand, looks at Tony. _Really_? Tony nods, and he makes a fist and gently taps it against Tony's, as though Tony's made of glass.

Oh well, it's a start. "So, coffee?"

The guy glances back at Coulson's office, "I really shouldn't-"

"Can they be any _more_ mad at you?"

He shakes his head, "Probably not." He gets up, "It's not far right?"

Tony should get the suit and fly them to France or something, just to get Fury to shit his pants. Serves him right. "Nah."

They're on their way to the lobby when one of the techs from the Helicarrier project sticks her head out of the door, "Oi, Tony; when are you looking over those proofs?"

"When you give me an engine reading that isn't logging an explosion." Tony tosses back.

She grins when she sees Blondie, "I'll make sure you get an hour."

"Fuck you-" the door's closed.

 

* * *

 

Tony. Steve tucks that away in his mind. Maybe short for Anthony? It's stupid to hope but- 

But what has he got left? He woke and everything- his whole world- had melted away with the ice. Was it bad to hope for some- tiny, desperate connection?

Although he can't say he approves of Tony's behavior towards the girl. "That was- you shouldn't treat an Omega like that." He tries anyway, but who knows? Maybe it was considered completely normal to swear at dames, these days.

Tony shrugs, "I get worse every day, and most of it from her."

Steve files that away too. He hadn't been sure. His nose had been pretty clear, but with those clothes and haircut and- _beard_ for Pete's sake- he'd wondered. "What do you do here?"

"Contract work;" Tony waves it off. "You saw the thing in hangar one?"

Steve tries to remember, Fury had shown him something huge and military looking, but it had been weeks ago and he hadn't been taking in much of anything. "I think so."

Tony glares at him, "You _think so?_ You think you saw the world's first flying aircraft carrier? What are you like on police line-ups? 'Oh officer, I think it was him, but it could have been an elephant, I'm not sure.'"

Steve can't help but smile a bit. "Are you the technician here then?"

"Yep, local mechanical genius."

He's arrogant alright, but Steve's put up with Howard in the past and this is nothing. He hasn't smiled so much since he came out of the ice and that's worth a coffee.

The cafe is only a short walk from the base, and is thankfully deserted. Steve looks at the prices; his eyes go wide.

Maybe it isn't worth a coffee, not at that price.

Tony is looking at him, Steve swallows and his hand tightens around the desperately small amount of money he'd been alotted for expenses- absolutely nothing, in the face of these prices.

"Aaaand, you don't get paid?" Tony is staring at him. "Seriously?"

Steve closes his eyes. The world swallows up around him, huge and terrible and blind and- he can't do this. He can't _do_ this.

"Whoa-" Tony's suddenly at his side, steadying him, "Okay, I'm paying- serves me for being a cheap date. Two Americano- make his a double, do you have anything stronger? Whatever. Do you take milk?"

Steve belated realizes the last was addressed to him. He nods.

"Lightweight. Give us all the sugar, he needs it."

He lets himself be led to a booth, suddenly desperately glad Tony is here. He barely knows the guy, but having him there- it's better than Fury hanging around asking him what he's planning to do, or the vague promise of doing something more. Tony is arrogant and self-assured to an irritating extreme, but having someone just telling him what to do- even in just having a coffee- is a blessed relief.

The server puts the coffee in front of them, Tony lifts his mug. "Fuck SHIELD."

Steve isn't too sure of his voice, but he taps his mug against Tony's and joins him a swallow.

It's... well, he'd thought the cafeteria coffee was miles above anything he'd ever had before, but _this_. Wow. The world suddenly snaps into sharper focus.

Tony is grinning at him, "Good, huh?"

  
"Yeah," and his voice doesn't shake. "Thanks. I uh, didn't expect it to be this expensive." 

"I got that much when you nearly passed out. I mean, do they just- not pay you or something?"

"Um," _it's classified_ spring to mouth, as he had obediently parroted ever since he'd gotten out of the ice. "It's complicated," he compromises. "I'm in- a bit of a grey area."

"Come on, you're working for them, you should at least get paid." Tony lifts an eyebrow and- _God_ , he looks so much like- he could block out the rest of the world and be back seventy years...

"I'm- off duty, kinda. It's- it's just complicated, okay?"

"You need a better job." Tony offers him the sugar. "I could hook you up with something."

Steve swallows. "I- don't think I can be a technician."

Tony laughs and- even his laugh is the same, Steve's heart contracts. "Yeah, not happening. But I know tons of people, I could set you up as a model, easy, or- I don't know, firefighter or something. Something with a decent paycheck."

 _Yes_. It bursts onto Steve's tongue. A wild desperate urge to _run_ explode in his gut. Anywhere but here.

But he can never run to where he wants to be, not if he ran for another seventy years. His hands clench in his lap. "I'll- think about it."

"Sure." Tony pulls out a thin strip of metal and glass- like the tablet only smaller. "What's your phone- oh right, I bet you don't have one."

Steve shakes his head. A phone, right, he'd seen the SHIELD agents with those.

"I'll send you one." Tony continues, "With my number. So you can ring me up if you make up your mind. Okay?" He presses the apparently smooth glass. "What's your name anyway?"

"Steve."

"Roger." Steve starts, but Tony is grinning. It's a joke. He's become something to joke about.

"Right." he says hollowly.

"Anyway," Tony downs the last of his coffee, "I probably need to go and- rescue more kittens, or something, you okay not getting lost back to the base? I mean, if you want to go back at all-"

"Wait!" Steve starts up as Tony stands. It's a horrible idea, but he can't let Tony leave without at least _asking."_ Can- is it okay if I ask something?"

Tony pauses, half out of his chair. "Sure, what you got?"

Steve swallows. "I just- when I saw you- you reminded me of someone-"

If he'd punched Tony in the face, he couldn't have gotten a worse reaction. Tony stiffens, his shoulders lock and he pales. "Remind you of _who_?" His eyes are glittering slits, and there's something murderous in the tension of his body, the tendons standing stark from his neck.

Steve's throat itches in warning. "Just- someone I knew." He holds up his hands, he should shut up, back off before he makes things any worse.

Tony smiles, or at least, bares his teeth. "Who?" He's goading, he wants Steve to say- something. Something awful.

"Maria Carbonell."

And just like that, it's like a switch was flipped, and the tension just- goes. Tony blinks at him, face slack and it's hard to imagine that a heartbeat ago he'd been a hair trigger from springing at Steve's throat. "What?"

"Just- someone I knew, a long time ago." Steve stares down at his hands, heartsick and utterly flattened. Whatever had been there a minute ago is gone. He's wrecked it. He doesn't know if he got some 21st Century thing wrong, or just something for Tony. "I'm sorry, it's stupid." He gets up to leave.

"Hold on." Tony's voice is steady, he sits down again, heavily. He looks at Steve. " _How_ did you know her? Can you even drink yet?"

"I'm older than I look. She's... dead then?"

Tony nods.

SHIELD didn't want to tell him what had happened to the Howling Commandos, to his friends. He can begin to see why. He'd thought the uncertainty was worst, but it's nothing compared to having it confirmed.

"Died in ninety one." Tony looks at him. "And you were- what, two years old?"

"Older." She would have been more than seventy. "Did you- know her?"

"She was my Mom."

The horrible knot of misery maybe loosens, just a little, Steve lifts his head and looks at Tony. He can see so much of her in him, half Italian Maria Carbonell. She had worked as a translator for any Italian based leads. All dark hair and dark eyes, her skin was darker than Tony's but he can see her in the cheekbones, the chin. "You look a hell of a lot like her."

And Tony laughs.

It's a shockingly happy laugh. Bright and brilliant and Steve can't help but smile uncertainly, infected by it. "Shit." Tony shakes his head. "I'm sorry I freaked out at you. That's- that's the first time anyone said that."

"Really?" Steve frowns, surely anyone who'd seen Maria-

Maria at twenty two, Maria seventy years ago.

He clenches his fists. Tony shakes his head and waves over two new cups of coffee. "I should be really insulted by being told I look like a seventy year old but- whatever." He's smiling. He's trying not to, but it keeps pulling at his mouth, crinkling his eyes. "And- wait, Carbonell? Did she actually used to go by that?"

Of course, her maiden name. Steve presses his knuckles to his face, "Sorry, I-"

"No! That's great." Tony laughs again and it's- frailer, more fragile. "Fuck, why didn't I think of that? I should have changed my fucking name at seventeen- wouldn't look as great on the business cards, but-" he breaks off, shakes his head. "Where did you meet her?" His sips his drink.

Steve smiles back, tentatively, Tony's dark eyes are dancing behind his cup. He seems really- happy. He's glad he's done some good. He has no idea how to answer that question.

"At one of her fundraisers?" Tony prompts.

"Something like that." Steve sighs, feels a burst of anger at himself for the lie. Tony's been nothing but decent- more than decent, and he is _lying_ to him.

"Was she- different?" And there's something else in his eyes now, something sad. "Like- more-" he breaks off, sighs, waves a hand pointlessly in the air, sighs.

"She was- so alive." It hurts to say it, hurts to think she's _gone_. She's gone and if she has who else? Peggy? Howard? Gabe?

Bucky.

That one, he knows.

He takes a breath, feels it catch, sips his drink. "She was really fierce, had real moxie. She was so bright and- she fought." He smiles. "Fought with just about everyone."

Tony is quiet.

"I didn't know her that well," Steve says apologetically. "I just saw her a few times, but she- left an impression."

Tony smiles. Looks down into his cup and- there's sadness there too.

"She was a great dame," Steve continues, trying to fill the silence. "I- I'm sorry I didn't know her better."

That seems to wake Tony out of whatever reverie he was in. He shakes himself. "No. Trust me. I'm glad she was- alive somewhere, but most of the time she- wasn't." He sighs, swirls the coffee. "She wasn't a happy person."

Steve's heart twists. "What happened?" Between then and now. A massive gulf of seventy years and all fallen in and gone forever.

"She married my dad for one." Tony's lips curls and Steve sees a glimpse of the savage, furious person he had seen earlier. "Not her best move."

"I'm sorry." Steve doesn't know what else to say.

"It's how she died." Tony's voice is flat. "He got drunk- he did that a lot- and wrapped his car round a tree. Bang." He slaps a fist into an open hand. "Gone."

There's a tremble in his voice, the hands on his mug are shaking, very slightly. "How old were you?" Steve asks gently.

"Seven-fucking-teen." Tony stares at the mug, as if he isn't really seeing it. "Fuck," and his voice is shaking, eyes bright. "She'd have fucking thanked him for it, in the end." He swallows.

"I'm sorry." Steve repeats, helplessly, the words spinning out like a broken record. "He sounds- like a pretty mean guy."

Tony stares at him, then laughs. It's bright and brittle. "You have no idea." He looks down at his mug, then stares straight at Steve. "He tried to kill me."

No one seems more shocked at that admission than Tony. He slaps a hand over his mouth, as though wondering where _that_ could have come from. He blinks at Steve, as though Steve had somehow made him say it through ventriloquism.

"Is that true-" Steve starts, then "I'm sorry, it's none of my business."

"No." Tony shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I’ve no idea why I said that- it's none of _my_ business throwing this weird shit at you."

There's a pause, Tony finished his coffee with a gulp. Shakes his head, he doesn't look upset, just... stunned.

"Was that true?" Steve says, very softly, so Tony can ignore it if he wants to.

Tony shrugs. "Pretty much. Not by accident either, I mean actually-" he waves a hand, shakes his head. "Okay, why am I telling you this?"

Steve has no idea, but he has an idea what to do. He pulls up memories of the bonds tour, standing on the stage to convince people of what people had to do. He thinks of the Commandos, leading them. He takes a breath. He's Captain America- even if no one knows. He can be Captain America for this guy. "That was horrible." He says with every ounce of firmness and conviction he had ever put into an order. "He sounds like a complete failure of a human being. I'm sorry you and Maria ever had to go through that."

Tony stares at him. He blinks, and gives an odd, strange little laugh. Steve isn't sure, but he think he's said the right thing. "I- okay. Thanks." He pushes the mug away, starts to get up.

Steve downs the rest of his mug and follows him to his feet. Tony puts a hundred dollars on the table- about three times their order.

Tony's halfway out the door when he stops. "I mean it," he says suddenly. "Thanks. That's about the nicest thing a total stranger's ever said to me."

"You gave me the computer thing." Steve tries to smile it off.

"Yeah, and I'm getting you a phone too." They step out onto the pavement. "Can't leave a nice guy like you stuck at SHIELD. What's your full name so I can have it mailed?"

Steve hesitates. That was top of the list Fury said not to give out. Tony stares at him. " _Seriously_? And you still want to go back there?"

"I have to." Steve looks up the bulk of the gleaming building. The fear of leaving it for this incomprehensible world is cloying. The thought of going back is almost worse.

"Wow, okay. We'll work on that." Tony digs another phone out of his pocket, fiddles with it. "Okay, I always carry a spare. I put my number in there. You call when you want to get the hell out, okay? Or when you want to hang out, that's cool too."

Steve looks at the phone. It's even lighter than the computer-glass-thing Tony had given him. He's terrified he'll crush it if he holds it too tightly. "Are you sure?"

"You're way too nice." He gets a smile. "Take the damn phone. "

Steve puts it in his pocket. Looks at SHIELD HQ. If he goes back very soon, no one needs to know he's been gone. "I'll be in touch."

"Do it." Tony steps away, points at him. "We'll give Fury fits, just you wait."

Steve smiles as he walks back inside, heads down to his little room, his out of time gym. He's already composing the letter in his head.

_Dear Bucky,_

_I think I made a friend today-_

The psychiatrist had suggested the letters. She's been reading the ones he's addressed to Peggy, but he keeps those to Bucky under his mattress. They make him feel- less alone, as though he's just been marooned in a strange land, and his friends- although out of his reach- are still there somewhere.

 

* * *

 

Tony waits until he's gone around the corner, before he pulls out his phone. He doesn't dial. "Jarvis, what the hell kind of Freudian slip was that?"

"Part of trauma recovery involves discussing the events."  Jarvis puts in mildly- way too mildly for such an incomprehensible mess. "It is considered a key stage in the healing process."

"Yes, but it wasn't even _true_." Tony waves a hand helplessly. "Yeah, okay- basically it's true and if anything I'm scaling the fucking thing down, but-"

"The truth is a liability. You wished to be able to discuss the events while both maintaining their monstrous evil, but presenting it in a fashion that is easier to process- and does not compromise yourself to the media."

"Have you been training as a psych, Jarv?" Tony smiles.

"I am the proud recipient of a doctorate from the university of the internet, sir."

Tony laughs.

"Are you alright sir?" Jarvis is more serious now. "That was not an easy conversation."

"Do you know how often some fucker used to tell me I looked like that bastard?" Tony smiles. "That guy just told me I look like mum. That feels pretty amazing. Any idea who beefy and blondie is?"

"I am sorry to report that SHIELD has taken to burying all information under a pile of nonsense. I suspect this is an attempt to thwart me. According to the last folder I searched, SHIELD is currently hiring Mickey Mouse, Michael Jordan, Neil Armstrong, Captain America and Kim Jong Un."

Tony shakes his head smiling. "We can break him out. Maybe he can be part of the real Avenger's Initiative. Fuck Coulson."

"Would you like me to contact Colonel James Rhodes?"

"And see if you can track down Doctor Banner, and talk to Pepper, she might be able to use her feminine wiles to get Natasha onboard."

"She will be delighted." Dryly.

Pepper must have been delighted, she must have been so delighted she sprung _this_ on him.

"No." Tony crosses his arms. "Absolutely not."

"It's an Omega rights fundraiser." Pepper doesn't look up from her phone. "If they aren't sick of you turning up looking as though you're _ashamed_ of what you are, I am."

Tony feels his skin crawl. "Pep, if something happens I'm not going to be able to fight in a goddam _dress_."

"You're not going to be able to fight in a suit either." Pepper looks up. "Tony, give it a chance. Just for an evening."

He can already see the headlines, imagine the paparazzi scrambling to get a underskirt shot. He shivers, tucks his arms around himself. "No."

"Will you at least _look_ at the dress when it's done?" Pepper slams down her phone. "Just that, before you start spouting off."

Tony bristles, "Fine. But I'm not shaving."

"I wouldn't ask that." Pepper looks at him, smiles faintly. "I might not recover from the shock."

"Is Rhodey coming?" Tony sits down. "I'll wear a dress if he does."

"Yes he is and _no_ , Tony." She frowns. "Is this part of Fury's Avengers plan?"

"Nope." Tony draws out the 'p'. "Fuck that, they're putting some random Alpha in charge. I want my own team."

He waits for Pepper to roll her eyes and sigh or otherwise tell him he's being an idiot. But she... doesn't. She looks down at her phone, sighs.

"This is the point where you say that's a really dumb idea." Tony prompts.

"I'm not saying that." Pepper looks up. "It's not clever, Tony, but that goes for the whole idea, not just your involvement. I don't trust SHIELD, and the less we have to do with them the better."

Tony pauses. "You agree I should be in charge?" That is actually _scary_.

"I definitely don't remember saying that." Pepper smiles. "And no- you're used to doing things on your own Tony, you wouldn't know what to do with a team."

That rankles, but... yeah. "How about Rhodey on the field, and I call the shots the rest of the time? And you help me get him to stop gloating."

"Just the two of you?" Her smile is a little sadder.

"Well, I'm hoping to lure Banner to our side with research grants, and I'm hoping you can get Romanov." he waggles his eyebrows.

 _"No_." Pepper says flatly.

"Aww, she likes you. You can tell how hard she polishes those toilets. She says it with every scrub of the toothbrush."

"And I'm finding it creepy."

"I'll protect you from the big bad Beta." Tony comes in for a hug, Pepper dodges neatly, and trips him.

"Ow-" Tony lands hard on his ass. "Oh, that was a lie- you've been _training_ with her, saucy minx-"

"You. Quiet." Pepper rolls her eyes. "Think about how you're going to get people for your team."

"Actually, I might have got one today." Tony gets up. "Blond bombshell from SHIELD HQ. No idea what he did but Fury's got him on crazy lockdown- no phones or computers newer than the seventies. I took him out for coffee."

"Of course you did." Pepper sighs.

"He looks pretty sick of SHIELD, so I'm hoping to woo him out into the big wide world of smartphones, no curfews, and coffee that doesn't come from Satan's rectum." He considers, "Ooh, booze! How about if he comes to the gala too? Get him seeing real people, booze, actual fucking life-" 

"And if it turns out he was grounded by Fury for being an axe murderer-"

"I was with him for like two hours, I didn't run away screaming."

"Neither did he- and you're not very good at pretending to be normal."

"Whatever." Tony bats it away. "I'm going to try and get him out again- Fury'll have kittens. If I come back with all limbs attached, he's safe for the gala."

"Tony." Pepper stops him as he turns to leave. "Take care, all right? He could be dangerous."

Tony hesitates, "I'll pack a repulsor."

Pepper pauses. "Tony, about the real estate situation-"

Tony's stomach kicks. " _No."_

"You need to clear it out, Tony."

"No. Scrap it, sell it, burn the whole place down- I don't fucking care." He turns hard on his heel, and stalks out.

 

* * *

 

His text to Steve for a Saturday morning meeting in Times Square is returned positive, and with a suggestion to see the Museum of Modern Art. "See?" Tony shows Pepper the text. "What axe murderer wants to go to an _art gallery_? Who wants to go to an art gallery at all?" He adds half under his breath.

"He's got good taste." Pepper says begrudgingly, "And it's a public place, so you should be safe."

"Worrying about little old me?" Tony teases.

"Always." Pepper smiles.

"And you still want to put me in a fucking dress...."

"I need you not to look like such a hypocrite." That stings.

Project 'Fuck Coulson' is going well. Rhodey sounds mostly amused when he asks him. "And who's gonna be running the team?"

Tony glares at him. He will _never_ live this down. "Well, I've got all the superheroing experience-"

Rhodey waits.

"And I know best about the suits-"

"Sorry, _who_ won that game of tag again?"

"And of course Jarvis is going to be feeding me all the intel."

"Admit it, Tony, you haven't got the first idea what to do with a team."

Tony doesn't admit it. Tony doesn't say anything. He fumes at Rhodey's smug look. "It's still my team." Even to his own ears that sounds petulant.

"Sure baby, no one's taking your toys away." Rhodey is grinning, broad and brilliant and it makes Tony's heart skip because he'd give pretty much everything he has to make Rhodey and Pepper and Jarvis that happy all the time. It's almost worth the humiliation. Almost. "I'll see what I can do to get myself on leave. The brass is going to be freaking out so badly over your team idea, they're going to want someone on on the inside side."

"They just want to feel relevant." Tony smiles. "I'm putting them out of business."

"I saw you've been reduced to rescuing kittens." Oh, fuck you Pepper. "Do you really need a team for that?"

"Fuck you, I was up there for an hour getting it down." Tony gives him the finger. "Could have used the help- if you get rid of your guns, they scare the kiddies."

"Not budging on the guns. You're at the gala next week?"

"Yep, you, me, maybe Romanov and some SHIELD agent I'm luring with my wiles."

Rhodey laughs. "Looking forward to it."

Tony is smiling when the call ends.

 

* * *

 

Blondie- okay, he needs to stop calling him that- _Steve-_ is waiting outside the MOMA wearing a baseball cap pulled hard down over his face, fists in his pockets and all but huddling behind the pillar.

"Fury wondering where you are?" Tony leans beside him, pushes his sunglasses up.

"I don't really want to talk about it." He looks around nervously. He's pretty pale, and sweating.

Tony frowns. "Hey, if you're that worried, I have lawyers. Big lawyers. With big legal teeth."

Steve cracks a smile and hey, success. "Thanks, I'll be okay." He looks around blankly, then takes a breath. "Let's go in."

Tony doesn't take in much of anything. Most of the paintings are squares of the same colour and the sculptures are maybe a stick with a nail in it and just- _whhhhyy?_ Why have this when they could have an exhibition of Iron Man suits? He instead amuses himself by mentally designing the exhibition. Of course, there'd be models- not the real suits. But he could have the designs down one wall, a running row of the different models down the opposite-

He blinks, looks at Steve. Because he isn't really looking at the paintings either. He's gone even paler, his skin shiny with sweat, and under his baseball cap, his eyes are so wide Tony can see the whites all around. "Steve?"

He doesn't answer. He's breathing hard. He's starting to shake. "Whoa-" Tony grabs his arm.

Steve spins around so fast Tony only just has time to ram his hand into his pocket, the repulsor clicks around his palm. He has it up in time to catch Steve's fist as it flies at him.

He catches the blow, but the _strength_ of it almost dislocates his shoulder. His whole arm goes numb. "Whoa! Stop! Steve!"

Steve blinks at him, the sweat is pouring down his face. "What-" He blinks at Tony.

"Hey- hey- it's okay-" Tony steps back slowly, pulling Steve with him until they reach a bench. Thankfully this art is so awful they are alone in the gallery.

Steve doesn't sit so much as collapse on the seat. He's starting to really shake.

"Okay. I think we're worked out why Fury doesn't want you going out." Tony sits beside him. "You okay?"

Steve looks down at his hands. Tony's palm aches. "I'm going to have the most interesting bruises." He continues. "I mean, wow." He shakes his hand, unclips the repulsor and flexes his fingers. Nothing feels broken, but he's got pins and needles, and it's already coming up red. "I'm going to a gala next week, they're going to have to make the dress blue and green to go with my hand."

"I'm sorry." Steve's eyes are closed, his breathing slowly starting to steady. "I- I thought I was okay with it. I thought-" he buries his face in his hands, winds his fingers in his hair and pulls.

"Bad mission?" Tony pats his shoulder. It's like patting a tree trunk. Yeah, he needs to get this guy on his team. That punch could go through a _wall_.

Steve doesn't react at first, then, finally he nods. "Yeah."

"I've had those." Tony hooks his hands around his knee, rocks back and forth. "They're fucking bad. I still can't go swimming."

Steve smiles weakly. "I lost my friends." His voice wavers. "All of them. I used to live round here, and-"

"Shit." Tony's stomach twists. "We can go somewhere else?" He tries, pathetically.

Steve shakes his head. "I can do this." He draws in a breath. Then opens his eyes wide, "I hit you."

"It's fine." Tony waves it off.

Steve looks at him, bewildered. "Where- are you hurt?"

"I'm good," Tony holds up his repulsor, "See?" It clips itself on his hand. He waves it at Steve.

Steve's mouth opens. He frowns, "What-"

"Yep;" Tony smiles, lets Steve take his hand and look at the repulsor. "Iron Man, always prepared." He does the scout salute. Steve starts, but manages to laugh, a little shaken and uncertain.

"I'm sorry for hitting you." He sighs. "I- it all started getting to me. I-"

"I know." Tony shrugs, "I've been there, I told you."

"You're Iron Man." Steve breathes, shakes his head.

"Um, yeah?" Tony looks at him sidelong. "Who else?"

"No- I didn't mean that, I-" He draws in a breath. "I'm sorry, can we go? I need a drink."

"Sure." Tony gets up, holds out his hand- his repulsor hand. He's glad of it when Steve takes it and he is almost tugged off his feet.

Steve stands, sways, goes very pale.

Tony know what comes next. "Toilet's this way."

 

* * *

 

 

Steve gets to the toilet in time. Tony is outside the stall as he brings up his tasteless SHIELD breakfast. His head is pounding, swimming. He's fighting to breathe.

He hasn't felt this bad since before the serum.

He looks down into the mess in the toilet bowl and suddenly, vividly, wonders why they brought him out of the ice. He's- not sorry to be here, exactly, but- why? What can he possibly do here? They don't even need him, they have Iron Man.

Fury's been keeping any information about Iron Man away from him, and he hasn't had time to look him up on his contraband tablet yet. But he seemed like a good guy- stopping wars, saving the world- it's good to know there's still people like that, willing to do the right thing.

Even if that right thing is babysitting an out-of-time veteran in the lavatories. Steve ducks out and Tony is sitting on the sink counter, swiping through his phone. He glances up, "You okay?"

 _No_. He thought he could be, but that was before he went through New York, and walked into an art gallery that didn't display anything that could remotely be called art. Everything so different he might as well be on another planet, and yet so much the same that he half expect to turn around and see- everyone. Everyone so long gone. A month ago. Seventy years.

And he looks at Tony and- that's the same too. Who is this Omega with the beard and smart Alpha suit? Maria, why are you sitting in the sink?

Steve rubs his face. "Sorry."

"I told you- forget it. You didn't puke on me, and that's already one up on what I've managed." he takes Steve's elbow firmly, leads him out. "Feel like a drink? We can go to a bar if you need something stronger."

The last time he'd been drinking, Bucky had just died. Even the _memory_ of the taste makes his stomach lurch again. "I don't drink."

"Probably smart." Tony agrees. "More coffee."

He settles on tea, in the Museum shop. It settles his revolving stomach and if he sits with his back to the window and just looks inside the museum, the cool, sterile walls, the steel furniture and the long tables- he can think _This is the future_ , and it doesn't feel so bad.

"Seriously though, that gallery _sucked_ , screw modern art. We can go and find you something better. I think they use that place as just a dumping ground of shit from people they don't want to piss off. I should totally fund an Iron Man exhibition-"

Steve tries to remember the fuzzy pictures he'd managed to snatch a glance at before the SHIELD agents guiltily put their papers away. Some kind of a suit of armor. He looks down at Tony's hand, the delicate tracery of the wires, the gold and scarlet chased plating like tiny interlocking scales or clockwork. The blue, glowing circle in the center, warm in a way he never knew blue could be.

"I'd go and see it." He says honestly. "It's beautiful." He reaches out to touch Tony's hand, but Tony suddenly pulls away. He flexes his hand, unclips the thing from his palm. "Bit touchy of you Steve. No."

"Sorry." The guilt settles heavy in his stomach. It's still so new. Not just the world but- him. His body. He'd spent so many years not being a risk. Too small, too frail, too _sick_ to alarm an Omega. He had spent more than a few winters in the Omega commune two blocks away, sharing sleeping space for warmth and they had all felt safe around him. And now-

Tony is tall and strong, Steve can't help but admire the taut, firm muscles of his shoulders and forearms, he's stronger than many Alphas could hope to be, and he still pulls away from Steve.

"Not something I'm looking for." Tony's eyes are steady. "Friend though?" He smiles. "I can do friend." He pushes the clinking thing across the table to Steve to see.

It is beautiful, glittering, bright and Tony could tell him this was some kind of future jewelry and Steve would buy it completely. Steve takes it carefully, feels the slight, delicate weight of it, the strength of the tiny links and plates, standing solidly under his hand. he gives it back. "I- I'd like a friend."

"Maybe we can help each other out." Tony crosses his legs more comfortably. "Why are you even with SHIELD? Okay, I get the not going out bit, with the PTSD thing- and seriously, _ow_." He rubs his arm. "But no pay? No tech? No-" he waves a hand at Steve. "Are those SHIELD provided clothes?"

Steve plucks guiltily at his shirt.

"You don't even have your own clothes!" Tony wails.

"Tony!" Steve hisses. A few people look at them, but the art world hasn't changed that much, and they all quickly turn back to their own cups of tea and artisanal sandwiches. "It's not that bad." He continues, although it sounds pretty bad even to himself. "And I do owe them, they pulled me out of- a very bad place. They've been working to get me back on my feet."

"By totally isolating you?" Tony gazes at him doubtfully. "If it's abusive coming from a relationship, it's probably bad in a workplace."

Steve looks down at his hands. "They don't want me- losing it. You- saw what happened."

"It was fine." Tony shrugs. "Hey, if you do freak out- I can totally help. No one better."

"Aren't you supposed to be saving the world?" Steve smiles weakly.

"Did you _see_ that last story in the paper?" At Steve's blank look; "Wait, you don't get the paper? Not even the fucking _dead tree format_ paper? What the everlasting _fuck_?"

"Sirs, if you cannot keep your voices down," A stern waitress leans over to them, "We will have to ask you to leave."

"They don't even let you get the paper?" Tony hisses.

Steve hesitates. "They don't want to overwhelm me." By completely cutting him off from the world.

"Fuck that." Tony scowls. "How is the fucking _New York Post_ going to do that? You're not made of _glass_." Another shake of the hand Steve punched.

He's right. he isn't saying anything Steve hasn't already known but never dare to think even to himself. He's stagnating, growing more and more scared of the world outside. In limbo.

Frozen.

"I don't know where to go." He says finally. SHIELD is all he had left. The Army must have changed beyond recognition by now, where can he go? He has no money, no home, no friends, nothing, Nothing.

"Don't you have- back pay, or something? I mean, my best friend's in the Air Force, he makes bank."

"Fury says he's working on it." Hard to convince banks that a man seventy years dead is still alive- particularly when that man is still a secret.

Tony stops. he looks at Steve and there's something- sharp, in that gaze. Angry, but not at him. "Fuck that."

"Sirs," The waitress comes back, wearily. Steve gives her an apologetic look. "Please leave."

"Sorry." Steve gets up.

"We're going." Tony leaves a furl of banknotes on the table- another hundred dollars. Steve stares at it. Superheroing must pay well, these days. "Come on."

"Tony-" Tony is marching down the corridor, Steve hurries. "It's really not that bad-"

"No, it totally fucking is." Tony turns suddenly. "You know how you kill someone? You put them in a fucking impossible place, do hideous shit to them, and tell them it's normal and- _it's not so bad_. Tell them they deserve it. It's the best they can expect. Then- and you don't even need to pick up a gun- they fucking _die_. So don't tell _me_ it's not so bad you're being treated like some kind of- of prisoner in a country where they've never even heard of the fucking Geneva convention, okay?"

His shoulder are heaving, panting. There's sweat beading in his hairline and his eyes are blazing behind the red-tinted sunglasses. Steve scents him suddenly, they are barely a foot apart. He's sharp, metallic, spicy.

"Maria?" Steve asks softly.

"Yeah. And me." Tony shrugs. "Just _go_. I can help you out. Fuck know I wish someone could have helped me- us." His voice catches.

"I-" Steve looks around, in case a hoard of SHIELD agents are about to descend on them. "They- they know things-"

"I have lawyers." Tony's eyes are steady, Steve can almost believe him. He's Iron Man. He's done- amazing things, he can tell that much if only from the brief, stolen glances he's snatched at the papers.

"SHIELD won't let me go." he says it. It's a whisper, but he's said it, the poisonous knowledge that's been sitting inside him since he woke up. How long would they have let him think it was the 40s? Would he still be sitting there, thinking it was 1945, wondering why Peggy and the Commandos couldn't see him, if he hadn't guessed the truth?

He swallows, his hands shake. He's _alone_ , everything he knows is gone and the best he has is this Omega he's known for less than a week. Iron Man. Maria's son.

"Fuck them." Tony breathes. "I told you, I'm on commission for them. They need me. They don't let you go, I quit." He glances at his phone. "D'you catch that, Jarv?"

“Yes sir,” a smooth, English voice comes from the phone. “I will communicate this to Director Fury.”

"Wait!" Steve lunges for the phone. "Just- wait- _fuck_." He can't help the expletive, he can feel the shakes coming back, the prickling, lashing sweat. His stomach quivers.

"Hold that, Jarvis." Tony tells the phone. He tucks it away. "Look, you can't just-"

"I know." Steve puts his head down, tries to _breathe_. "I need- let me do this, please."

Tony pauses. "Okay." He takes a breath. "What d'you want to do."

Steve hesitates, walks over to a bench and sits. This gallery is hung with strange paintings of splattered paint. They're not anything Steve recognises, but they do look interesting, and it's something comfortable to look at as he tries to think and calm down at the same time.

Tony sits beside him. "Because I know how this goes- you go back and you think you can't get out and it just gets worse-"

"Just- a minute." Steve takes a breath, holds up a hand. Tony shuts up.

Out. Getting out. It's an almighty _relief_ to be thinking like this, to have something to do, to plan. He plots out the layout of SHIELD HQ, thinks about Coulson and Fury's schedules. When? If he times it the right way he can clear out his room and get out, leaving a good night and most of another day before they'll notice he's missing- if that.

Maybe it's cowardly, but he doesn't want to face them. Tony might be right about them hurting him- although he cannot believe it of Coulson- but even the thought of speaking to them makes his insides go to water. he _can't_ , it's pathetic and awful and some part of him is screaming why he's more frightened of this than fighting the Red Skull, and he has no answer. Just a sense that if he can get out, and get his head together, it'll be better soon.

"I'll go on Friday." Steve says finally. "I can get out without anyone seeing me."

"What about going out now? Are you going to be in trouble for that?"

Steve shrugs. "Not sure what they can do to cut me off more." Doors he can kick down and walls he can punch through, at least.

"Be careful." Tony is looking at him, and there's something in his eyes- he knows. He knows how it feels to run and never look back. He knows the feeling and he's still a hero. It makes Steve feel a bit better. "Look, if they take your phone, I'll know. I can get you out."

"It's not as bad as-" Steve sighs. "What happened to you."

"Great." Tony says flatly. "I wouldn't wish _that_ on my worst enemy- and they're real bastards, I can tell you. So it's not as bad as the shittiest thing in the world. It's not a fucking competition." He lifts his fist. "Fucking awful situation fist bump?"

Steve smiles, how does that go again? Ah yes. He lifts his hand, and gently taps his fist against Tony's.

"I'm gonna be at a gala on Friday." Tony puts in after a moment.

Steve hesitates, "I can wait another week-"

"No! Fuck that. Nah, tell me where you want to be picked up, I'll make sure you get there. It's perfect. Even if they follow you they're not going to try and take you in in the middle of an Omega rights gala, then we can go to my place then- my lawyers."

Steve smiles. "I don't have the clothes-"

"I'll take care of that." Tony waves him off. "And if you're worrying about the whole breakdown thing- I'll be there, and War Machine. He's like me but boring. If you look like it's going bad, we can handle it."

It won't. At least not until later. Steve feels- alive. An escape from SHIELD. It's a mission. He has a mission. It's like air after so long underwater, water after thirst. He _knows what to do_. It feels so good he almost cries.

 

* * *

 

"So, SHIELD and me?" Tony makes a bursting motion with his hands. "Poof. I'm not good with relationships, we're through."

"I'm not sorry." Pepper looks up. "But can I ask what happened?" The look on her face suggests that if she looks at the news, SHIELD HQ will be going down in flames.

"I learned my lesson about fingers and plug sockets." He looks at Jarvis' camera. "Plus, remember that guy I was getting out of SHIELD? Holy fuck. No pay, lockdown, no news or media or- anything. I'm helping him get out."

Pepper pauses. Fingers still on her keyboard.

"Sorry-" Tony starts, then- "Actually no. Not sorry. So totally not sorry."

"It's not that." Pepper shakes her head. "That sounds awful, Tony. I'm just thinking- Natasha."

Tony thinks it over. "Think she's got other reasons for cleaning those toilets? I mean, beside wanting to get into your magnificent panties?"

Pepper is quiet for a long moment. She shakes her head. "I need to think. _You_ , on the other hand, need to go to get your dress fitted."

" _Pepper_ -" Tony looks at her with his best, big puppy eyes.

She smirks. "Just go, Tony, you can turn it down if you don't like it."

There's something knowing in her eyes that makes the back of his neck itch. "Is this an offer I can't refuse? Am I gonna find a horse's head at the end of my bed?"

"Just go, Tony."

He checks his phone in the car. "Any news from SHIELD's favorite chew-toy?"

“Steve is still in possession of his phone. He was detained at Fury's office for close to an hour, but is now in his room.”

"Any more idea who he is?"

“I am still working on it sir.”

"Classified everything." Tony sighs. "Even his fucking _name_. What the fuck did he do, assassinate JFK?"

There is no answer from Jarvis, he's probably digging through the SHIELD files for Simba and Donald Duck. Fuck Fury, Tony doesn't like being sensible, but this is _waaaay_ too close to Howard for him to hang around. Anyway, fingers out of plug sockets, he'll finish his latest projects, and turn down anything more.

He sighs as they reach Antelli's. He tucks the phone in his pocket. "This dress better have pockets, I'm just saying- actually, why do I care? I'm not wearing the fucking thing-"

Antelli has a rather smug smile on her face as she steps out and falls into step beside him. "Ms Potts informed me you would say something to that effect. Please come with me." She takes his arm in a grip that would make Steve proud.

Tony is slightly uncertain. Should he run? Are they going to force him into the thing at gun point? Finally she steers him into a darkened room.

"Um-" Tony squints. "Is this some kind of modern art tailoring? I wear nothing but it's all dark so no one cares-" then the lights go on, and Tony's voice trails away.

The thing that is sitting on a tailor's dummy in the middle of the room would take pride of place in the Iron Man exhibition he is _so totally_ going to put on in the MOMA. It's a low-cut, backless dress in red and gold. The shoulders are plated in gold armor, the arms are sleeveless, but delicate golden braces are sitting beside the dress on a table. Golden boots that come up to the knee are propped beside them. Everything is modelled almost _exactly_ on the armor. The dress itself is heavy, silken scarlet, the skirt long and slit up almost to the hip, bound around the waist with a gold and red belt.

Tony takes out his phone, and dials. "Fuck you."

"You like it then?" Pepper is smug, damn her.

"It's-" He looks at it. And- he can see himself wearing it. he could wear his repulsors- fuck, even the boots have fittings so he could include them there too. It's like his armor, but-

"You made my armor _sexy_." Tony accuses.

"I made it glamorous."

"Oh come on, it totally is already."

"Are you going to turn it down?"

Tony looks. And maybe some part of him really is Omega because he _wants wants wants_. "Oh, all right." he sighs. "Because it's you."

Antelli comes in to fit him for a red-gold choker, and Tony doesn't even complain.

 

* * *

 

"Captain?"

Steve feels his back tense. Coulson. He turns, forces a smile. "Hi Agent Coulson."

"Phil, please." He's smiling, Steve can't help but let his smile turn more genuine. He _likes_ Coulson. He even somewhat likes Fury. Sometimes he looks at them and wonders how Tony can believe such awful things about them.

Then he remembers all those awful things are _true_ , and it's even more confusing.

"I'm pleased to say that Fury is reconsidering your- situation." He falls into step beside Steve. "We don't want you feeling like you're a prisoner here."

How else is he supposed to feel? Steve shrugs. "I'm okay." Just a few more hours, then at six- when things start getting quiet- he'll _go_.

"I've suggested bringing you into the Avengers team planning." He continues, "As you will be leading the team."

 _I can't_. He's a liability to teammates. Steve fixes the smile to his face, lets Coulson go on.

"The members are still- uncertain." Coulson continues, "But we will have Clint and Natasha, and Iron Man."

Steve stops. "Iron Man?"

Coulson nods, "Have you heard of him?"

"A little." Steve hedges. He's agonized over looking him up on his tablet- but it really does feel like an invasion of privacy.

"Well, I'll be the one to tell you- Fury isn't on board, but you'll find out soon enough- Iron Man's going to be a bit of a familiar face."

Steve can't help but smile a little.

"He's actually the son of one of your old friends." Coulson is looking at him, and Steve schools his face into surprise. "He's Howard Stark's son."

 _No, he's Maria Carbonell's,_ Steve almost answers. Then the realization hits and something hot and twisting locks in his stomach.

No.

"Now, I just want to gives you a heads up." Coulson continues, looking at him steadily. "I know you're going to want to talk to him about that, and I don't blame you."

_He sounds like a complete failure of a human being_

"But please, for the good of the team and the structural integrity of this building- please do not." Coulson stands in front of him, eyes steady, pleading. "Tony and his father did not have the best relationship, and Tony becomes- erratic, when asked about him."

_He tried to kill me_

"He's not the easiest person to get along with at the best of times." Coulson sighs. "I'm giving you a heads up that should make it easier for you to avoid- any potential pitfalls. Fury can answer any questions about Howard- he used to work with him."

"What did he do?" Steve's mouth feels numb.

"Howard Stark helped to found SHIELD. He helped to run it until he died." Coulson looks at him sympathetically. "It was a car accident. About twenty years back."

_He got drunk- he did that a lot- and wrapped his car round a tree. Bang._

Howard had always loved a drink.

"No, I mean-" Steve takes a breath. "Why does Tony hate him? What did he do?" He has to hear it.

Coulson looks at him, a close, puzzled look. "I don't know." He hesitates, looks around. "I don't think anyone knows."

 _I know_.

"He was certainly at SHIELD a great deal, so he must have been an absent parent- Fury believes that is the case-" He doesn't believe it, Steve can see it in his face.

"What do you think?" Steve swallows. Maria. Tony. Maria Stark. Tony Stark. It doesn't seem real.

"I-" Coulson leads him around a corner, into a quieter corridor. "I shouldn't say."

"I think I really want to know." Steve whispers. Howard, Howard _what happened? What did you do?_

He wants to not believe it, but- why would Tony lie? Steve hadn't even known who he meant. Tony couldn't possibly know he'd ever met Howard.

"Howard Stark was- not the most progressive man, in terms of Omega rights." Steve almost snorts- they got _that_ right. "Tony pretended to be a Beta until only a few years ago, and the way he reacted when we spoke to him about Howard-" He pauses. "It wasn't simply absence. I've dealt with abuse cases before." He looks at Steve. "You knew him, am I completely wrong?"

"I knew him seventy years ago." Steve shakes his head. "He could have changed." He hopes so, but- "I can- believe it. As you said, he could be- very backward, about Omegas."

"I wonder if he tried to sell Tony off, or forcibly bond him, or-" Coulson shakes himself. "I'm sorry, he was your friend."

 _You know how you kill someone? You put them in a fucking impossible place, do hideous shit to them, and tell them it's normal and- it's not so bad_.

Steve looks down at his hands. He cannot speak. He saw Howard less than a month ago. A brilliant, arrogant, brave man. Certainly flawed, but-

No this. Not murder. Not his own child.

"Well, just don't bring it up with him, okay?" Coulson pats his shoulder gently, "Tony's not a bad person- just eccentric and sometimes hard to deal with." He sighs. "I'll have his file sent to your room."

Steve looks at Tony's file. _Anthony Edward Stark_. The basics are on the front cover. Millionaire, eccentric, Omega, Iron Man. Mother: Maria Carbonell Stark. Father: Howard Stark. He looks at the photo clipped to it and- he can see it. The photo must be a few years old and he does look a bit like Howard, a true mix of both parents.

Steve pushes the file under the ancient computer. He doesn't want to look at it. It feels- wrong.

No wonder Tony seemed surprised he didn't know he was Iron Man. No wonder he assumed Steve would know all about him. When he scans through the newsites on his tablet, they all jump out at him.

_Tony Stark opens fundraising Omega gala_

_Tony Stark rescues a kitten_

_Tony Stark pregnant?_

Steve looks at the last one- stunned, but it's nothing but a blurry photo and a lot of speculation, so it's probably rubbish.

He browses through the stories as six o'clock approaches. Then he stands, stretches, and gathers the pathetically small handful of his belongings. The letters to Bucky go inside his bag with his spare set of clothes. His toothbrush.

His shield is somewhere in the SHIELD laboratories. It's a wrench to leave it, but it's either him or it, and he can always come back. He slings his bag over his back, glances both ways down the corridor, and starts jogging towards the emergency stairs.

They're deserted, Steve catches his breath and starts down them three at a time. His heart is pounding more out of fear than exertion. It's irrational- SHIELD couldn't forcibly stop him if they tried- but it's still there, clenching, hot, angry.

His shoes clatter to the concrete of the car park. He ducks behind one car after another, keeping his head low. A trio of laughing people wander in and he drops flat, but they only climb into one of the sleek, rounded cars, and drive off.

Steve picks himself up and keeps running. It's familiar, and for a moment the concrete under his feet is mud, the gunshots ring in his ears and he can almost see them, running around him as they dart from cover to cover on the battlefield-

Steve slams up against a massive concrete column. He chokes, pulls at his collar and starts when his fingers touch cloth instead of armor. Reaches for his shield and it isn't there. Looks around. The battlefield is gone. He is alone.

His legs tremble, he slides to the floor, closes his eyes. He can do this. His hands shake, sweat is breaking out cold and heavy across his face and back and no- no- he clenches his fists. Not now. Not yet. Just let him get out.

He turns and forces himself to his feet. the battlefield wavers around him, a promise around the edges of his vision that disappears when he looks at it. He takes a breath and surrenders to it. He can be back there, he can take it for now, as long as it gets him out.

The chill evening air and the blazing lights of New York grounds him. He ducks around the rear of SHIELD, cuts through the small side streets until he reaches the block where he and Tony had first had coffee.

There's a car there. A bright red, gleaming number that Steve can only stare at for a moment. It is _not_ subtle, but something about it makes him smile. It's very dashing, very beautiful. Howard would have-

Steve stops that thought dead.

The door opens, and a man pokes his head out. "Come on, quick!"

It's not Tony, but Steve doesn't have much choice. He jogs over, and plunges into the darkened inside of the car. "Buckle up," another voice, from the front seat. Steve fumbles with the seatbelt, and the driver floors it. The wheels squeal, the car dashes off.

"Hey." The man sitting beside him holds out a hand. "Colonel James Rhodes. Tony asked me to pick you up, you can call me Rhodey."

"Steve." Steve shakes his hand. In the fading daylight and flashing streetlights, he finally sees the man's face. He's an Alpha, dark-skinned and thin, with the hardened, weatherbeaten look that makes him think of soldiers he had met who'd served in the African theater. His teeth flash in the dark car, his eyes reflect the light and gleam. "Thanks for picking me up."

"Not a problem." Rhodes shrugs. "Tony told me what SHIELD was doing. It sounds insane. Welcome to the team."

"Team?"

"Well, me and Tony." He holds up a hand, it gleams silver. "War Machine. Tony warned me you're not feeling great, so don't worry."

Steve closes his eyes, tries to relax in the car. The fear. The fear that's been with him since he came out of the ice. The enormous, thunderous unknown stretching unbroken around him. He has no idea who these people are. He barely knows who Tony is. Even the people he thought he knew are different now. Wrong.

"Here." The driver hands something back to them. "Put this on."

His fingers touch expensive cloth, perfect tailoring. "What is it?"

"You're going to a gala, so you'd better get dressed."

"Tony said I could go in the suit." Rhodes groans, as they organise the clothes into two pairs of trousers, two shirts, two jackets, and shoes.

"And Pepper told me to tell you no." The driver turns around, smiles, "Which one do you want to piss off?"

Rhodes sighs, and they fight their way into the suits. It's not the first time he's had to get dressed in a moving car, and Steve has to remind himself this isn't an undercover mission. He kicks off his trainers, puts on the shoes. Everything fits perfectly.

"Heads up boys, we're here."

The car pulls up to a blaze of lights. The sun has gone down now, and Steve is half blinded by cameras as he and Rhodes stumble out of the car. He looks around blankly, wonders where his stage is-

"This way soldier." Rhodes takes his arm and leads him around the car. He's in a dress uniform, but Steve can't recognise what branch.

"There you are!" A woman hurries over, tossing red hair out of her face. She's in a suit like Steve’s, smartly cut and immaculate in blue. She smiles at him. "You must be Steve." She holds out her hand. "Since Tony has probably forgotten to mention me- Virginia Potts."

He can't quite get a bead on her. She's dressed and presenting as an Alpha, but the scent isn't there. He tentatively resolves on Beta. "Nice to meet you." He tries, takes her hand. "I'm Steve-" he hovers over the surname, unsure, lost.

"Where's Tony?" Rhodes looks around- easy to do, as they are among the tallest here. Omega rights gala, Steve remembers belatedly.

"Getting changed." Potts rolls her eyes. "He refused to come in the dress, damn him."

"I'm just amazed you got him in a dress to begin with." Rhodes smiles.

"I'll take you in," Potts holds one arm to Steve. "You can escort Happy, Rhodey, I know you won't mind."

The driver takes Rhodes' arm. Steve frowns, he takes a breath. The driver is Alpha too. But Rhodes just smiles. "Not my type, sorry man." To the driver.

The driver just smiles. "No problem."

Steve takes Potts' arm in a daze. This is- okay then? A month ago, two Alphas together like this at a ball would have been- well, would have been in prison, probably, definitely all over the papers. But although they get a few sour looks from the older members of the crowd- no one says anything.

That's... good. Yes. Good. Steve tells himself firmly. He thinks about Gabe, wonders if the change of law had come in time for him to enjoy it. He wonders if Gabe is still alive. He thinks of Bucky.

His stomach kicks. Potts tightens her grip, looks up at him. "Are you all right?"

He takes a breath. "Yes."

"Here's our table." It's at the front. Steve sits in his chair and holds on to the arms as if afraid he'd be pitched out of it. Rhodes sits on one side, and puts a hand on his arm. He's still wearing the gauntlets. It's as relief. If he did- lose control, someone would be able to stop him.

"Drink?" The driver- Happy?- waves a server over.

"I don't drink." Steve says helplessly as the other help themselves to flutes of champagne.

"We have a range of non-alcoholic options, sir-"

Potts thankfully steps in before Steve is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options. What in the world is a mangosteen, anyway? The lights dim, those around the stage grow brighter. Applause rings out.

"Here we go." Potts holds up crossed fingers.

"At least he'll actually be in this one." Rhodes smiles, looks at Steve. "Did he tell you about Vegas-"

"Shh." Potts holds her finger to her lips.

 

* * *

 

The dress is about as complicated as the armor. It takes Tony half an hour and two assistants to get all the components hooked up and hanging right. But then, as he looks in the mirror, feels the grounding weight and comforting clasp of the metal and fabric- he feels _good_.

He feels better than good. He feels great.

Oh, he definitely _looks_ great, but it's- more than that. There's something powerful about the dress that goes beyond just the repulsors he's fitted to his hands and inside his boots. It feels like the suit. It feels like he could walk into a warzone in this thing and kick eight kinds of ass. He shakes his head. Pepper.

_"And now, to open the night- our very own superhero billionaire, Tony Stark!"_

Tony rather thought he'd feel awkward, stepping out dressed like this. He doesn't, he stalks out with a grin and flourish to crescending applause- and Pepper is right. When they see him, see how he's dressed- the applause and cheers rises again, delighted.

"Thank you, thank you." Tony looks around the room as his eyes adjust to the blaze of the lights. "To be honest, it was time for a change." He waves a hand at the dress. "I'm used to my suit. I'm used to _power_ , and eventually, you get to a point where even Saville row doesn't cut it any more." Scattered laughter. "And you need something that makes a _statement_ , am I right?" Cheers. "Something that just tells them all- this is who I am, you don't like it? Kiss my well-tailored ass!"

Roars of laughter. Tony grins, and finally spots Pepper. She's right at the front, with Rhodey and Happy and- hey, they got Steve. Tony smiles at him. He looks a bit shell-shocked, but smiles back shakily.

Tony delivers the rest of his speech to crowning applause. Of course he does. He _rocks_ , but- yeah, the dress probably helped. Finally, it's time to step down and let someone else put a damper on the gala.

He mops himself up in the bathroom- the dress is gorgeous, but sadly lacks his suit's ventilation. He checks his repulsors, because while he's safe in the gala, the way out might be dicey.

Pepper waves as he stumbles back in- the boots are taking some getting used to. He weaves a little awkwardly through the tables. "Rhodey! Buttercup!"

Rhodey rolls his eyes. He's wearing his dress uniform and he looks great. "Stark."

"Aww, don't be like that-"

"Just getting used to ordering you around." He grins shamelessly, "Seeing as I'm going to be telling you what to do on the battlefield."

"Thank goodness for that." Pepper looks at him meaningfully as he turns to her in despair.

"Steve, look at these traitors. I take them into my home, I give them my life's work-"

It's not working. Steve can only have known these two for an hour, but he's already smiling. Tony looks at Happy, who makes a show of filling his mouth with canapes, then slumps into the free chair. "Nobody loves me."

Steve actually laughs, a bright, soft sound that seems to surprise him. He covers his mouth, then quickly takes a sip of his drink. "You- uh, you're in the army?" He turns to Rhodey.

"Air force." Rhodey smiles, "On indefinite leave, for the moment."

Tony perks up. "They let you go?"

"For the moment." Rhodey nods, "The thought of having you leading a team is so scary they went for it."

"A team?" Steve glances at Tony.

"Team of superheroes." Tony shrugs. "It's just me and Rhodey at the moment though. Any luck tracking down Banner?"

"Jarvis is still digging through the internet." Pepper shrugs. "Are you sure about him?"

"Hey, we can't fill the team with Alphas." Tony elbows Rhodey. "Gotta have some clever people- ow!" Rhodey elbows back, and he's wearing the gauntlets.

Steve doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. "Is this- like the Avengers Initiative?"

"No. Fuck that." Tony waves it off furiously and nearly slaps a waiter in the face. The tray clangs and Steve starts up and manages to steady it before it overturns all over Happy and Pepper. "Sorry. Nice catch. Good reflexes." To Steve. He rescues a flute. "I don't like SHIELD, I'm making my own team. So there." He sticks his tongue out.

"And you're going to be in charge of it?" Steve looks at Rhodey, rather too hopefully.

"Don't worry, I'm keeping command waaay away from him." Rhodey smiles.

"You want in?" Tony leans in.

 

* * *

 

It makes sense. In a way, it's almost a relief. A lost as he had been at SHIELD, at least they had been promising him a- a _purpose_. This sounds like maybe a better deal. "I- is that why you got me out?"

"No!" Tony starts. "Yeah- no. I mean, if you want to- sure. You can punch through walls, that's pretty superhero-y. But I got you out because SHIELD is evil and you seem nice and evil shouldn't have nice things. You do what you want. It's your life."

Steve nods slowly. The world trembles threateningly around him, the sheer- gulf of it. The _scale_ of the unknown on every side. "I don't know what I want." He says finally.

"You can crash with us until you figure it out." Tony waves it off. "There's loads of space."

"I'm not saying no." Steve sighs. "I would be- nice to have something to do."

He looks at Rhodes, Tony. _A team_. It's at once a relief and it makes his hands shake. His team. What happened to his team? He hasn't dared look. They could all be dead and it has been just over a month and he is already thinking of _replacing_ them-

His breath come faster, his hands shake. Sweat runs cold down the nape of his neck. Where is he? What the hell is he even doing here? Part of him wants to get up and go on stage and he can almost taste the bonds spiel on the surface of his tongue and it would be something he knows, something he could run through routine and he could _understand_ and- and-

"Steve?" He stares at the people around the table. Curious, worried eyes. He starts up, unable to bear them-

A hand lands on his shoulder.

Steve starts away, stumbles. hands reach for him and he falls, landing hard on his back on the plush red carpet. His ears are ringing, the gilded ceiling spins. More eyes, alarmed, he throws his arms up and... hands, iron hard and impossibly strong- strong as he is- close on his wrists.

"Easy soldier." A soothing voice finally breaks into the suffocating haze and ringing. "That's it, you're okay." Steve blinks, looks up in a dark, calm face. _Gabe_ , he feels his lips move.

"No. I'm Rhodey, remember?" The great, grey gauntlets are holding his hands steady. "You okay? You back with us?"

Steve looks up at him, blinks. "Y-yeah." Here. The twenty-first century. God, will he ever feel like this is _real_?

"It's okay, just one too many drinks. Not everyone can keep up with me." Tony's voice comes from somewhere above. There's laughter.

"You okay to get up?"

Steve nods. Rhodes changes his grip on his wrists, and pulls him to his feet.

"I'm sorry." He steadies himself on the back of the chair, feels the aluminium bend under his gripping fingers.

"We've all been there." Rhodes sits down, Steve slides down and sits tight, glad of the support. "Was it Afghanistan?"

 _What_? Steve frowns. "Um- no."

"Iraq?" Rhodes waves a waiter over for a glass of water.

Steve shakes his head.

"A SHIELD thing?"

Steve screws his eyes shut. _Germany. Seventy years ago._ He can't say it. It's- too big. He wants to say yes. He wants to pretend it's true so hard he'll forget the truth. He can't lie. He can't tell the truth.

"Rhodey!" Potts frowns. "Leave him alone." She smiles at Steve. "It doesn't matter. If you need someone to talk to- we have some good therapists."

"I had one with SHIELD." Steve mumbles. The water arrives and he drinks, it centers him a little.

"Who reported to Fury?" Tony slumps back in his chair, crosses a leg over his knee- which means his dress rides up rather daringly. Steve nods, tries not to look. "There's your problem, no patient confidentiality. What's the point if you can't trust them to spill everything?" There's a bitterness there.

"I'll be alright." He takes a breath. This is the most normal he's felt since he woke up out of the ice, he doesn't want to ruin it.

"If we stay for another fifteen minutes-" Potts checks her watch, "We'll have attended the main announcements and can bow out."

"Please, don't leave because of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence." Tony looks at him pleadingly, "Pepper offering to leave a gala early? We'll be ice-skating over hell on the way home."

The cameras blaze as they step out of the gala- fifteen minutes later, as Pepper had promised. Steve holds her arm tightly as they walk down to the car, the low roar of questions shouted at Tony rather than them. The low roar, then a peak.

"Fuck off!" One of the reporters has ducked down, and is trying to press their camera under Tony's skirt. Steve lets go of Potts' arm and starts forward to collar the creep-

Tony steps back neatly and lifts a hand, Steve has time to glimpse that he is wearing the same glowing blue thing on his hand as he had in the MOMA- then it explodes into a hail of blazing light.

The reporter is knocked flat. He isn't hurt, but his camera is a smoking wreck. "No creepshots." Tony snarls. "TMZ's gonna be getting my lawyers, fuckbrain."

Steve hovers, uncertain if he should say something or if the offender is suitably chastised. Pepper takes his arm firmly. "It's okay." There's a smile on her lips. "But thanks for trying."

"Fuck this." Tony keeps pulling on his skirt, trying to get a few more inches down. His hands are shaking. "Fuck the whole fucking lot of you-"

Rhodes steps up between Tony and the reporters. "Go home." He lifts his hands, in each steel gauntleted hand, a blue light is glowing.

The reporters part like the Red Sea. Potts pulls them through quickly. Happy ducks into the driver's seat, Potts riding shotgun. Steve, Rhodes and Tony cram into the back seat, Tony in the middle.

"Well," Potts says finally, as they pulls out into the road. "That could have gone better."

"Could have fucking gone worse." Tony snarls. "Or would having my underwear all over TMZ be better for our stock prices?"

There's a moment's silence. Steve looks out the window for a distraction- and wishes he hadn't.

Where is he?

Happy is taking the smaller streets and maybe it would be better if he had stuck to the main road- at least then, the past seventy years have erased anything he remembers.

But here- it's not all the time. Not even on every street, but every here and there- _he knows this place_ , a flash of _home_ in the alien city, like a razorblade in an apple. He closes his eyes, shudders.

"You okay?" Tony's voice breaks through his reverie.

"Yeah." He looks at them, the bands of streetlights passing over Tony and Rhodes' faces. He wants to go _home_. The thought is throttling, he cannot breathe.

"Take it easy." Tony pats his hand. The blue circle is smooth and strangely cool on his skin. "We're nearly there." He points.

It's a skyscraper. Towering, massive, hulking over the skyline. He wonders if anyone can even see the Empire State Building any more. _Stark_ is emblazoned on it. "Oh." It comes out about as bad as he feels.

The air gets distinctly chilly. "That tower is Pepper's baby." Tony informs him. "Them be fighting words."

"Sorry." he can't muster up much enthusiasm for the apology. He looks up wretchedly at the hideous tower, and remembers what someone once told him about the Eiffel tower- that the best place to be was on it, so that at least it was the only place in Paris you couldn't see the thing. At least he won't have to look at the tower as long as he's inside it.

"It's the first building of its kind to be powered by our new renewable energy source." Potts' voice is flat. "It will change the face of the world."

Steve looks up gloomily. He's already pretty sure he doesn't like _this_ face.

"Anyway!" Tony puts in brightly. "Home sweet home! Everybody out."

The car pulls into a broad, strobe-lit garage. Cars are neatly lined up, brightly polished and seemingly brand new, making the place look more like a showroom than a garage. "Are those yours?" He looks at Tony, who shrugs.

"Yeah, I don't use them much though- I mean, I can _fly_."

Steve looks around at the insane excess, the cost of maybe half of one car's engine could have fed him and Bucky for a month.

"Which means," Rhodes puts in. "He doesn't care who might borrow his cars, right Tones?"

"Mi casa es tu casa." Tony says easily, and that makes it a little better. "At least if you don't crash mi casa, we're cool."

The car tucks neatly into the space where it clearly came from. Steve steps out. The air is warm, clear and well ventilated, with only the faintest hint of gasoline and oil.

He follows them over to a neat, brushed steel elevator, set a little aside from the larger ones on the opposite wall. Happy stays behind to check over the car and bring in their things. Steve clutches his bag. "This is the personal elevator- it can get to the private floors."

Steve blinks at her. "I thought-"

"We'll, we're not letting you crash in a conference room." Tony puts in, as the doors close.

"I could manage-" He tries, "I've had worse-"

"Did SHIELD make you sleep in a fucking field or something?"

"No- I had a bed." Steve takes a breath. "I just- don't want to be a bother or- make you uncomfortable."

"I have a Heat room. It locks." Tony waves him off.

Steve feels his face burn. "That- that's not what-" He chokes out, then swallows. "I mean, you must have some- secrets, for Iron Man."

"My secrets are totally safe." Tony smiles, looks at the ceiling. "Right?"

Steve glances up at the ceiling- in case someone is up there. There is nothing. Tony scowls. "I _said_ , right, Jarvis?"

“I was hoping not to alarm our new guest, sir.”

The voice is smooth and cultured, British, and seems to come from everywhere at once. Steve looks curiously at Tony, while Rhodes and Potts roll their eyes.

"Steve, meet Jarvis. Jarvis, this is Steve. This is my boy Jarvis. He's in charge of the building."

"Nice to meet you." Steve tries politely. "Are we coming to meet you?"

“As I am technically part of the building, I doubt that.”

Steve glances at Tony, who grins- but there's something tight there and- this is a test. Steve isn't sure what it is, but he's waiting- and so is this Jarvis- to see what he does next.

"Are you a robot?" He tries, hoping it doesn't come across too rude. Beside him, Tony gives his odd twitch, like an aborted punch to the ceiling. "Like in Asimov?"

“In a fashion. I am an AI, artificial intelligence. Sir created me.” There's a world of fondness in that tone. “I commend you on your reading habits, however.”

Steve isn't sure, but he thinks whatever the test was, he's passed it.

 

* * *

 

Tony sits down at the workshop after dropping Steve off at a guest room. "So- opinion?"

“You know what it will be.”

"Easy to get into your good books." Dummy hunkers down next to him, hands him a smoothie.

“And yet so few people ever do.”

"Well, ninety percent of the world are morons, what can you do?" Such a simple test. It's not even what the question is- although _'are you a robot_ ' is fairly innocuous as it goes- it's who you ask it to.

So few people ever actually address Jarvis as a person.

"So apart from getting human-AI etiquette, any more to add on him?" Tony stretches. He peels off the dress and dives into his old shirt and sweatpants. It's a relief, but he still carries the dress over to a clean table out of harm's way. Fuck it, he's really going to keep the thing. _Fuck_ Pepper.

“Nothing.” Tony glances up at the frustration in Jarvis' voice. “There is nothing. I have run every scan on facial recognition and it has turned up no trace, no social security number. I am still parsing through SHIELD's files however.”

"So, which is it? Mickey Mouse, Superman or Terminator?"

“I am attempting to rule out the more outrageous choices.” Jarvis says wryly. “However, he was briefly in the papers.”

Tony blinks, taps his screen, a newspaper page flashes up.

Oh, it's that Times Square mess a month back- turns out that was Steve. There isn't much, just a few fuzzy photographs of Steve and Fury and a lot of speculation. "Not hugely helpful."

“Indeed not, sir, which is why I did not give it priority.”

"How can a guy just appear from nowhere?" He sips the smoothie, pats Dummy. He whirs happily. "Wait- can you run scans on the Maria Stark Foundation dinners from before '91? Maybe he was on the guest list."

“A dead end. Either he was not listed, or he was on as a plus one.”

"Given he must have been about three, that's pretty much a given." Tony sighs, feeling uncomfortably old. "Jarvis, does any of this make sense?"

“No.”

"Then let's just be extra nice to the guy and maybe he'll give us something when he realizes SHIELD isn't going to kick the door down." Tony shrugs. "But put up the extra security protocols, just in case Fury decided to get creative."

“Already deployed sir.”

Tony brings up the readings on the reactor, a few more tests and they should be ready to go off the grid and fly solo. They're looking good.

“Sir.”

"Yeah?"

“Ms Potts asked me to remind you,” Jarvis sounds really reluctant, which is warning enough, “about the- real estate situation.”

Tony closes his eyes. "No."

“I understand, but it would be-“

"Jarvis. No."

“Very well. I am sorry for mentioning it.”

The plus side about having him know about- well, everything '91, is that Jarvis no longer argues when he stonewalls anything to do with it.

"Can we just go there and burn the place down?" Tony tries wearily. "Just you, me and a fuckton of gasoline?"

“I doubt such a thing could go unnoticed in the middle of New York.”

"Worse has." Tony breathes, but doesn't push.

 

* * *

 

His windows darken by themselves. His sink has no taps but just turn on when he moves his hands under it. His shower is automatically the right temperature. There is a robot in the ceiling.

Or maybe that's not quite right. Steve considers as he sits on the frankly ridiculous bed. Maybe they are simply inside an enormous robot that looks like a building. It's not exactly a comfortable thought.

"Jarvis? Are you there?" At least he hasn't found a camera in the bathroom. That's one up on SHIELD.

“Yes... Steve.” There's a pause before it says his name, like it would like to be more formal but can't.

"Do you have a- a body somewhere?" Steve tries. "As well as being in the building?"

“No. I am contained within a number of secure servers, I can access this building, and a number of others.”

"Oh." So much for Robbie the robot. "Do you ever- want one?"

“Sir has often asked,” he sounds amused, Steve supposes Sir is Tony. “I am very happy as I am.”

"Okay." He thinks of Asimov. He'd met him once at a bookshop. He'd be so happy to see this was the future. Steve wonders if he should try and enjoy it for his sake. "Are there a lot of robots around?" He hopes this isn't too obvious a question, but Fury had not mentioned any.

“No. Just myself and my siblings.”

Siblings. "And Tony made you?"

“Indeed.”

It's a _family_. Steve can't help but smile, even as he wonders what might have happened to make Tony chose a mechanical family over a biological one. "That sounds pretty amazing."

“Thank you.” There's amusement there, it- _he_ , he can't keep thinking of Jarvis as an it- seems happy. Can a robot be happy? Steve supposes this proves they can.

"I'm, uh, going to turn in." He looks around for a light switch.

“Allow me.” The lights dim. “If you require it, call for the lights and they will come on again.”

"Thanks, um." He fiddles with the covers. they feel impossibly soft. "If you hear anything- if I-" He looks down at the blankets. He doesn't want anyone to see, even a robot. At least at SHIELD, he could pretend no one was looking.

“Sir has mentioned his own issues, and Colonel Rhodes has served several tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. I am quite used to such troubles.”

"Okay."

“If I may-“

Steve pauses, looks up.

“You are not alone. If you wish to speak, Sir and Colonel Rhodes will be happy to listen.”

Steve's stomach twists. "I'm okay." It comes out weak. He's lying. He lying to all of them if only by keeping his mouth shut and trusting they will never guess. It's not fair, but he can't bear to speak.

“If you are sure.”

He- doesn't leave. Steve isn't sure if he's looking away not or if he even can. It's strange, but that's okay. He doesn't have any reason to keep looking. because Steve's normal. Just a SHIELD agent with some bad wiring. Nothing new.

Steve closes his eyes. Touches the letters under his pillow. _Dear Bucky, you wouldn't believe it, but I ran away from SHIELD. Actually, maybe you could. You'd probably laugh. Bucky-_

_I wish you were here._

 

* * *

 

For a big guy, Steve can definitely make himself scarce. Tony doesn't push, he's been asking Jarvis for anything he needs, and by the sound of it, he's been splitting his time between his room and the gym.

Whatever. Coping mechanisms. Fuck, Tony didn't leave his workshop for two weeks after he got back from Afghanistan. A month in '91. If this guy wants to run himself to pieces, there's nowhere better than the tower's gym. Better than whatever SHIELD had.

Still, that isn't going to stop Tony from being sociable. "Hey big guy."

Steve looks up quickly from where he'd been skulking close to the wall. "Oh, hello Tony."

"Wanna watch a movie?" Tony cranes his head over the back of the sofa, Rhodey nods from the next seat along.

Steve hesitates, hovers. He's pale, wary. Weary.

"It's a good movie." Rhodey puts in. "And a massive TV."

"As big as you want it to be." Tony adds happily. "It's basically a projector."

Steve sidles in. "Like a cinema?" He's smiling, a little exasperated, like Tony is being ridiculous with all his money.

"Yep."

Steve slips around the side of a chair, and tentatively lowers himself to it, Tony can see the huge muscles of his legs tremble, ready to bolt. "It's just sci-fi."

Rhodey looks at him. "Anything you don't want to see?"

Steve blinks. "What?"

"There's some things in films I'd rather not see." Rhodey shrugs. "And Tony's got a few too. Any we should add for you?"

Steve hesitates, then, "Cold." he says finally. "Ice. People being- dying of cold."

"Ah well, sounds like the eternal battle of Frozen vs Tangled will remain unsolved for another day." Tony stretches.

"Fuck you. Tangled always wins. Even Jarvis thinks it's better."

"And Pepper agrees that Frozen is the best, so we're still two for two, honeybear."

Steve is looking at them like they're madmen. "Disney movies." Tony frowns at him. "Where were you stationed?"

"Um-" Steve looks down at his hands. "Somewhere off the coast of Greenland?"

Tony stares. "Okay, pop culture ignorance? Totally forgiven. Anyway, this is about a guy who gets stranded on Mars, sound good?"

"That's fine." Steve smiles, and it looks a little more relaxed.

He seems to enjoy the movie- which he should, it's awesome. There's once or twice where he looks over at Tony as though he'd like to say something- but just sighs and leans back in the chair, occasionally frowning as Tony and Rhodey snipe at each other- yeah, they're bad cinema buddies.

"So when are you planning a manned mission to Mars?" Rhodey smiles at Tony. "NASA's waiting on Stark funding."

"What, you don't think I'm working on it?" Tony grins back. "The suit's well on the way, extra air tanks, big boosters- I'm just waiting for the world to not need me for like- two years."

Steve laughs, slightly shocked. "Really?"

"Um- not really." Tony feels an odd wrench, as though he _should_ be doing it. As thought unless he was somehow doing everything at once he was somehow-

Less.

Fuck that.

"A bit busy cleaning up Earth before I fly off to smackdown aliens." He continues.

"It doesn't looks like there are many aliens there." Steve points at the desiccated Martian landscape Matt Damon is trudging across.

Tony waves it off, "I'm making a point."

Steve doesn't answer, looking sadly at the blasted landscape. "It would be amazing though." he says wistfully.

"What, the aliens? Sure, that would be great-"

"I meant going to Mars." He gives a sad sort of smile. "I mean, the Moon landing was pretty neat, right? I wish I'd been there. It would be- nice to be there for a Mars landing."

Those puppy dog eyes should be _illegal_. Tony scowls at him. "Fine! Fine! I'll tell Pepper to double our NASA donations! That should get them at least halfway."

Steve blinks, "I didn't mean-"

"Forget it." Rhodey waves him off. "You'll get used to it."

"But- how much _is_ that? You shouldn't-"

"Ah-ah." Tony waggles a finger. "You're right. We should have more old-school sci-fi awesome. We are going to Mars." He grins at Steve. "Want me to make the donation dependent on you being the first man in Mars?"

"Whoa whoa whoa-" Rhodey straightens, indignant, as Steve just _gapes_. "Sorry, I don't get to go to Mars? Why don't I get to go to Mars?"

"Because I'll pine away without you, babyfluff." Tony pats Rhodey's crewcut. "Two years? How will I survive it?"

Steve covers his face in his hands, his shoulders shake. Tony looks at Rhodey in alarm- did they break him? But then he looks up and he is biting his lip to hold back the laughter. "I- no thank you, Tony."

"That's good." Tony grins. "Because I'm kinda getting used to you- and knowing your luck SHIELD would probably be waiting at your dropzone to kidnap you again."

Steve's smile flickers. "Have you heard anything- are they looking for me?"

"We've had a few really nasty emails," rather strange, vague emails at that. Whoever Steve is, SHIELD ain't saying. "But that's just hot air and Fury venting. They can't do jack or shit."

"I should- say something." Steve tries, it's weak. "Write them a letter, or-" he can't continue, his voice breaks. he takes a breath, and closes his eyes.

"You can." Tony shrugs. "I can have our lawyers mock something up and you can sign it, if you don't feel like writing something yourself."

Steve gives him a grateful look. "You don't need to do this." He shakes his head. "I can take care of it."

"You don't have to!" Tony rolls his eyes. "I'm being responsible and helpful and _nice_ -" Rhodey snickers. "Oh fuck you, see if I waste my responsibility and niceness on you- anyway, please don't discourage me, I might relapse."

"Please don't." Rhodey agrees.

"If you're sure." He looks between them. Rhodey gives him a very tiny nod, and he finally caves.

"Anyway." Tony rubs his hands. "Air and Space Museum? Next week?"

 

* * *

 

There is a museum. Then Central Park. Then visit to the biggest cinema Steve could imagine. Then shopping. Tony smiles and pulls him through it all. The similarities and the differences. The alien city and the old one. And slowly, the stabs of pain begin to lose their teeth. Grow blunted, raw and bruising but no longer so devastating. 

He likes the tower best though. It's as ugly as ever, he will never forgive whoever approved it for ruining the Manhattan skyline, but it's so _strange_ , so much like something out of a science fiction film that he opens his eyes every morning and no longer has the sudden, crushing realization that this is not home. Instead he looks up at the strange ceiling, the windows slowly fading to light outside, the robot in the ceiling and knows _this is the future_ , there's not space for doubt here.

Even the gym is futuristic. With odd machines and white lights and walls that can turn to cinema screens. It's easier than the gym SHIELD had give him, where he'd thought at any moment that Peggy might walk in, or Bucky or- he doesn't know any more- until he'd almost rather stay in his room.

Everything in the tower is strange, so it's no wrench to take the sleek, silvery elevator down a few stories for his workout.

“I must warn you that sir is currently using the gym.”

"Does he want to be alone?" Steve feels a stab of panic. He needs this, and while he could run through New York, the thought is still fearful, crushing.

“No, I have informed him you are coming.”

"Then-" Steve pauses. 'Wait, is he naked?" That is truly alarming. "Please don't open the doors if he is." Not that Tony isn't attractive, quite the opposite, but- um.

“Sir is entirely clothed.” Jarvis seems to sigh. “Simply attempting to prepare you.”

The door opens, and Steve steps into a battlefield.

At least, that's what is feels like. He starts back, grabs for a shield that isn't there and almost falls over. The roar of battle is all around him, the hammer of machine guns and screaming-

The doors close, but the elevator doesn't move. The din is lessened a little, and with that distance Steve can start to pick out the rhythm in the shouting, the bangs regular and instrumental-

"Is this _music_?" Steve gapes.

 There is a pause, then Jarvis says, “I did try and warn you. Would you like me to turn it off?”

"Yes!"

The doors reopen and the music stops. "Hey! Jarvis what the hell?"

“I'm afraid Steve does not share your taste in AC/DC.”

Steve is about to ask what the noise had to do with electrical currents, but doesn't dare. He tosses his towel down on a running machine, punches in a decent incline.

Tony is on a rowing machine, dressed in sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt that- well.

Steve likes Omegas. He also- for all he's tried to keep it quiet- likes Alphas sometimes. Tony- sweating, scent-heavy Tony, with the muscles on his arms and back standing out as though sculpted on his lean frame- is such a perfect blend of both that Steve fixes his eyes firmly on the wall and starts running.

They continue in silence. Steve glances over at Tony and sees he's put in these little earbud things he'd seen Coulson wearing. They seemed to be little telephones, but maybe you can get music from them too? Steve is glad he doesn't have to hear it. Is this what music is like nowadays? Between that and the wash-out in the MOMA, culture seems to have regressed somewhat.

He's also wearing the large blue- thing, over his chest. Steve saw it at the gala, but put it down as a futuristic form of jewelry. But he hasn't seen any photos of anyone else wearing anything like it, and this is hardly a time for jewelry. Maybe it has something to do with Iron Man?

"Jeez," Tony sits up, taking the top off a water bottle. "Are you training for a marathon or something?"

Steve looks down at the readout. He's barely into his normal routine. "I just like running," he tries. "It's- I like it."

"No problem." Tony smiles. "If you want to do the superhero thing, you'll have to keep up with us. Awesome supersuits are hard to beat."

It’s the first time he’s mentioned the team. Steve smiles. "I would like that."

"Awesome." Tony gets up, and starts on some slow, languid stretches that Steve is _not_ looking at. "Rhodey's going to get us _training_." He pulls a face.

And oh, the sharp bolt of pure joy that punches through him at that. _Training_. To be useful again. The promise of the SHIELD Avengers or Tony's own team were good but this- this is something concrete.

"You could look less happy about it." Tony grumbles.

"I couldn't." Steve smiles at him.

"No one on a treadmill should look that happy." Tony arches his back, which makes the muscles lining his spine shift, perfectly contoured under his damp t-shirt. "Anyway, the place is yours. Go on and put on Barenaked Omegas or something-"

Steve's face flushes. What does that even _mean_? Do Tony think he is going to watch a peep-show while in the gym?

"What music do you like anyway?"

"Um- Cab Calloway? Louis Armstrong? Benny Goodman?" Steve tries weakly, hoping it won't seem too strange.

Tony shrugs it off. "Jazz man, that's cool."

But it takes Jarvis a long moment before _St James Infirmary Blues_ suddenly echoes out around the room. Steve looks up in amazement. "You had that?"

"I can play the discographies of all of the artists you have mentioned." Jarvis says mildly. "Might I also suggest Bessie Smith and Glenn Miller?"

"Um- sure." Steve looks up, dazed. "Thanks." He'd saved up for months to buy just that one song currently waltzing about the gym. He and Bucky had played it until the grooves wore out and Cab Calloway's voice melted into a low, barely distinguishable moan. And now he can listen to it, and any others he wants.

Twenty-first century culture has just rocketed up in his estimation.

"Jarvis can set you up a playlist." Tony waves him off. "Don’t wear yourself out, Rhodey's gonna be in touch with a training date."

The music swells in the quiet. Steve's heart rumbles steadily in his ears, sweat beading in his hairline, the back of his neck.

For the first time since he woke up- so far away in time- he actually feels... not quite happy but maybe as though happiness could come soon.

 

* * *

 

"On your right!"

Tony dodges- right. Dummy's paintball splats him full in the chest over the arc reactor.

"Are you actually doing it on purpose?" Rhodey drops until they're both level on the rooftop. "Is this a weird new way of redecorating your suit?"

Tony looks down at the multicolored splatters across the hotrod armor. "I've got to let Dummy get a few shots in. C'mon Rhodey, you never played tag with a kid?"

"You let him have a few, sure." Rhodey wipes a streak of yellow paint from Tony's helmet. "He headshotted you."

Okay, maybe Tony's been a bit distracted. He isn't _used_ to having other people zipping around in the middle of a fight. "At least I'm doing better than Steve."

It isn't saying much. Dummy turns his paintball cannon on Steve and fires. Steve, instead of dodging or dropping or- anything, just holds out his arm like that's magically going to stop the pellet, and splutters as his face suddenly turns blue.

"Steve," Rhodey sounds helpless. "That could have been a bullet."

"Sorry." He wipes his face. Butterfingers rolls up with a packet of tissues. You lowers the camera to better record this historic moment. "I'm- not used to this."

"Okay." Rhodey sighs. "We're going again, from the top. Tony, you fly over Dummy to distract him. I'm going to lure him left then Steve takes him out with a paint grenade. Got it? Can we _please_ take out one of Tony's pet robots? Just once?"

"Anything for you, sugarplum." Tony kicks off, Dummy follows him with the cannon, trailing a stream of paintballs in his wake.

Rhodey sighs, and throws himself to the left. Dummy wavers for a moment, not sure who he is supposed to shoot- "Steve! Now!"

And Steve throws the grenade at Dummy, but- Tony rights himself in mid air to check- he's thrown it like a discus and it spins away and blows red paint all over You. Dummy decides on a target and Rhodey gets a direct headshot in the face.

The three bots beep happily in their victory. Rhodey pulls up the faceplate, swearing.

"You," Tony lands and walks over to Dummy, "need to stop playing Call of Duty. You're far too good with that thing."

Dummy gives a gloating whirr.

"I'm sorry." Steve walks over. "That was-" he presses his knuckles to his face. "I thought-"

"That's why we train." Rhodey joins them. "So we can iron out these bugs." He looks at the bots wearily, his current plan of attack means the score stand 5-0 to the bots. "Fuck lot of bugs."

"Try again?" Tony glances at Dummy. He lifts his cannon happily. At least they're having fun.

"I need to think over our tactics." Rhodey pinches the bridge of his nose. "Do you two want to train a bit while I just watch?"

"Sure." Tony looks at Steve. "Wanna play capture the castle- or, in this case, the main air vent?"

 

* * *

 

"Rhodes?"

Rhodey turns, he isn't surprised to see Steve. For a guy only going by his first name, he's pretty formal sometimes. "Hey, come on in."

Steve walks over, joins him at the kitchen table. The tablet in front of Rhodey is playing highlights of their ramshackle training session. "How is it going?"

"Not bad." At Steve's surprised look, "I wasn't expecting miracles- although it'd be nice- no one's ever done this before. A squad this small? With these kinds of abilities and with Tony's personality? We're just gonna have to write our own rulebook."

Steve sits down. "Mind if I-" He waves a hand towards the tablet.

"You go ahead." Rhodey pushes it towards him. Steve scans over it thoughtfully. "Tony and Jarvis are trying to find Bruce Banner, so who knows, we might have more on the team."

Steve frowns, "I don't know the name."

Rhodey doesn't stare, but he does give Steve a sideways looks because- really? Banner? The guy levelled Harlem and Steve sounds like a New Yorker. Plus- he's military, or Rhodey would _eat_ the armor.

But his face is legitimately blank, so maybe they didn't have much in the way or internet and newspapers 'somewhere off Greenland.'

"He's a scientist," Rhodey says finally. "Did a few experiments and turned himself into a giant green monster." He takes the tablet back and flicks google images until he finds the Hulk. "This guy."

Steve doesn't blink, but then, maybe too long with Tony has blown his ability to be shocked. "Do we really want this guy on the team?" He looks up at Rhodey. "He seems- erratic."

" _Tony_ is erratic." Rhodey pulls the top of a bottle of water and drinks. "Banner's a fucking nightmare. SHIELD is after him though, so Tony wants to give him an out. Plus we're probably the only ones who could check the Hulk."

Steve nods. "Where is he?"

"That's what Tony's trying to find out right now." He looks at Steve, trying to read- something, in his face. There's nothing to read. There never is. The guy is honest as the day and completely sincere.

Hell, nothing to do but ask. "Were you with the military?"

Steve looks up quickly, surprised at the sudden change of subject. "What?"

"When you were somewhere off Greenland." Rhodey pulls another bottle of water out, and offers it to Steve. "SHIELD or military?"

"Um-" He hesitates, he's wondering if that'd be too much and- _what is this guy hiding?_ \- "Military." He says quickly, then looks back down at the tablet, swipes back to look over their training footage again.

Military, with no idea who the Hulk is. Where the hell did this guy come from?

"I need more practice." Steve says finally. "It's been- I need to get used to-" he breaks off, rubs his face. "I'm sorry."

"We all need to get used to this." Rhodey says firmly. "I usually work with infantry or air support. Tony needs to _take orders_ , and you need to fix your style. We'll try again tomorrow. We'll have all three of Tony's robots with paintball guns this time."

"Separate or together?"

The question surprises Rhodey. "I was thinking together at first, then splitting them apart so we can get used to deflecting firepower from different angles."

"I thought-" Steve pushes the bottle in the middle of the table, and starts arranging salt-shakers into position. "If I could hitch a ride with one of you guys-" he lifts the bottle over the bottle, "I could drop down and be in closer quarters. I think I could do better like that."

Rhodey looks at him, smart. “’s an idea." He agrees. "Ask Tony about riding with him, this suit is better for running distractions. Just make sure you don't actually hurt the robots, Tony would flip out."

Steve nods, moves the salt shakers around to be the bots. Rhodey leans over and adjusts them into his planned position. Their hands touch for a sudden, razor sharp moment. A flash of contact and his skin is radiating heat. Rhodey glances up, and Steve flushes- just a little, along his neck.

Damn it.

 

* * *

 

Steve gets back to his room, and looks at the tablet.

It's the same tablet Tony gave him more than a month ago, it sits there, blinking a cool blue charging light at him. It's almost a taunt.

Steve sits down and picks it up. When he'd gotten out of the ice, all he'd wanted was something like this. A way to find out what had happened, the things that SHIELD had not wanted him to know.

And then Tony had just dropped it in his lap, and he- hadn't dared. As long as he didn't look, it didn't have to be real. He could just- drift, as though this were some strange dream. Live lost in a manufactured past at SHIELD or in an impossible future with Tony.

But this _is_ real, and if he wants to be part of this team and make himself a place in this world- he has to face the truth.

Steve sits on the bed, picks up the tablet. It opens to Google. He looks at the empty bar for a moment, the blinking counter waiting for him to type. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. Types.

 _Bucky Barnes_.

There are photos. His breath clocks in his throat and for a moment it feels as though he had never taken the serum, he _cannot breathe_.

God. Bucky.

He slides a hand under his pillow, clutches the letters there into a ball because- of course, they will never be sent. Of course. He knew that. Bucky died on that train.

_Died 1944_

_MIA_

_Body never found_.

The tablet falls from his hands. He shudders, digs his knuckles into his eyes to punch back the tears. He takes a breath, picks it up again. He has to continue. He has to.

 _Peggy Carter_.

Steve walks into the elevator an hour later, his head spinning. It's time for their training, and he's in the black armored jumpsuit Tony made him, helmet in his hand.

It hadn't been as bad as he'd feared. Then again, it could never have been good. Peggy is alive, in England. Dum-Dum retired to Spain. Gabe is in Canada, legally married to an Alpha lover.

Everyone else is dead.

He'd had a team. They are still there, but so many have drifted away, and the faces of those that remain are so different now. Peggy so pale and colorless with her white hair, Dump-Dum's face wrinkled and weather beaten like oak, Gabe's half fallen in, his hair all gone.

And Tony had been telling the truth about the car crash, and, reading between the lines, probably about the alcohol as well. Peggy hadn't gone to the funeral.

There's a crackle from Jarvis. “A moment of your time please, Captain Rogers.”

"Sure," Steve smiles at the ceiling, 'What's on your mind?"

The silence stretches. Steve frowns, replaying what they’d just said, wondering what could have-

A heavy, cold lump of ice lodges into his stomach.

“Captain Rogers.” Jarvis's voice is soft, almost trembling. “I did not dare to believe it until I followed your search history.”

"Jarvis-"

“And your SHIELD files. Very clever, but they had your photograph. It was so outrageous I didn't consider it at first.”

"I'm sorry." Steve lowers his head, feels sick. He'd known it couldn't be forever, but he'd hoped...

He'd hoped it would be a little longer.

“How dare you.” The sudden fury in Jarvis' voice makes Steve start. “How dare you come in here, and pretend to be Sir's friend?”

"It wasn't pretending!" Steve looks up quickly. "It was true-"

“You came here,” his voice is shaking, he's afraid. Steve looks up at the camera in the elevator. “I let you near Sir.” His voice nearly breaks. “I let you near _Dummy_.”

"I wouldn't!" Steve presses a hand to the wall. "This- you have it wrong. Tony helped me- I wouldn't hurt him-"

“ _Liar_.”

It's spat with such loathing that Steve starts back- but there's nowhere to go. The elevator has stopped, the doors are closed.

“Vanko,” He continues, a hiss, “was an alpha who tried to kill Sir last year. He claimed it was to avenge his father. His father who had been friends with Howard  Stark." The name is snarled out like an obscenity.

"I didn't know-" Steve tries again.

“Stane,” Jarvis doesn't let him continue. “Tried to kill Sir the year before. Had him kidnapped and nearly murdered.” His voice trembles again, if he were human, if he had a body, he would be in tears. “Another Alpha friend of Howard Stark.”

"But-" Steve's mouth opens, he doesn't know what to say. He wonders if this is how Domin felt in R.U.R.

“Howard Stark.” The cold, unblinking eye of the camera is fixed on him. “Your friend, Howard Stark. Who tried to kill Sir, who came closer than all the rest put together.”

"I'm sorry." he has no idea what to say.

“And then there's you.” The lights suddenly dim.

“Who lied your way into our home.” The elevator shakes without warning, something clangs down the shaft, clattering past them.

“Who took advantage of Sir's kindness and generosity.” A harder shake.

Steve rushes to the door and tries to pry them apart. It takes all of his strength to get it a crack open, the metal buckles under his fingers and he sees nothing but a brick wall.

“An Alpha.”

The lights go out altogether. The elevator shudders, sparks stream down through the open door. Steve looks up at the ceiling desperately, wondering if he could make the jump through the emergency hatch and out.

“Who was friends with _Howard Stark._ ”

Then the elevator drops.

It falls three feet and crashes into the basement. Steve is thrown off his feet, falls to the floor.

“I should not be giving you this chance.” Jarvis is almost panting. “I should crush you.”

Jarvis, Steve realizes through his daze, has not been programmed with the Three Laws of Robotics.

“But- on the very slight possibility I might be wrong, you have one more chance. I will take you to the roof. You will explain the situation in full to Tony. If you do not, I will drop from the top of this building. I will fill your room with carbon monoxide. I will short circuit every electronic you touch. If you run, I will list you as a terrorist and child molester. Do you understand?!” That last is shouted.

Steve gets up shakily. The lights flicker back on. "Jarvis-"

“Do you understand?” Repeated, dully.

"I understand." And although he doesn't think it's worth this level of rage- "I'm sorry."

“Excuse me if I do not believe you.”

The elevator rattles up in silence. Steve tries surreptitiously to smooth the bent doors-

“Leave it.”

Steve steps back guiltily. They ride up in silence.

The robots on the roof as gone. Tony is there, in his gold and red suit. It's a work of beauty, Steve thinks distantly. He hopes Tony does run an art exhibition about it. "Steve! What's going on? Jarv said there was an emergency and Rhodey had to take the bots to the workshop-"

"Yeah." Steve closes his eyes. He doesn't want to do this, but even without Jarvis' threats, he knows he has to. "I have something I need to tell you."

Tony flips up the faceplate. "Sure, what's up?"

He wishes he had kept the faceplate down. He wishes he didn't have to see it. The procession of horror, shock, disgust and anger on Tony's face when he tells him.

Tony stares at him, he's trembling. It's impossible to see in the suit but Steve can tell from the small quiver in his face, the twitch of muscles. "Well, that explains 'somewhere off Greenland'."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" Tony snarls. 'You're the all American Hero! I should be fucking honored!"

"I- I couldn't face it." Steve closes his eyes. "After SHIELD I- I just wanted something- normal. To feel- normal."

He stands there, head down. He lets his helmet fall from his fingers to the ground. The black, dull helmet. He wonders what had happened to the one he'd gone down in.

"You lied." Tony breathes. Steve looks up, she's shaking harder, the suit plates are rattling faintly.

He wants to say he didn't lie, not really- but that would be a lie in itself. "I'm sorry." he can't say anything else.

"I let you near Dummy." His face is white. "I let you near You and Butterfingers."

The robots. The little family of robots. Steve feels sick. "Tony," he takes a step forwards, "I wouldn't-"

" _Get away from me_!" And oh, there he is. That savage, furious creature he had seen. Tony's lips are drawn back in what could be a smile, but Steve cannot look away from those teeth, those even, neat teeth. "Don't you fucking _touch me_ -"

A threat. Steve struggles to stay still. His hands itch to face this danger, ready himself to fight. He steps back, holds up his hands. He keeps his mouth closed, doesn't look into Tony's eyes. Small, submissive. He almost misses his old body. Even when trying, he cannot make himself not be a threat.

Tony takes a step back. One hand is up, the blue glow intensifying in the palm.

It's too much, Steve crouches at the threat, draws back his teeth, ready to dodge and run and- spring.

It’s the last straw for Tony. He fires.

Steve rolls, bounces to his feet. The world drowns in mud and gunfire. His hands grasp empty for his shield. He roars and charges at the red blur in front of him.

It screams. The blast hits his shoulder and sends him flying. The pain tears through him, sharpens everything to a needle's tip and he spits, ducks his head and charges up on a ledge to jump his attacker- where is his team?

"Bucky-" he needs this guy taken down _now_ -

A punch like a sledgehammer almost cracks his jaw, but his fingers find purchase under metal plates and he clings on, hammering blows down. He looks down into the expected red skull and- it is red, but the eyes are glowing blue and there's gold there too and-

Tony.

There's a mechanical scream and Tony punches him again, this time, his hand glows blue. Steve's fingers tear out of the armor in a shriek that sets his teeth on edge and he falls, dead weight to the roof, bounces, rolls nearly to the edge.

He stumbles to his feet, only then realizing what a bad idea that is.

Tony howls, and his boots roar with blue fire. His blasts himself at Steve.

Steve barely has time to grab on as Tony throws them both over the edge of the building.

He's _falling_.

He cannot breath. Freezing air cuts at his face and he's scrabbles with a control panel that suddenly morphs into a smooth, armored back. His fingers scratch uselessly over the smooth plates, slip.

He's _falling_.

Then, Tony stops in mid air, inertia tightens its hold on Steve and he doesn't stop. He is thrown backwards, into the hundreds of feet of thin air down to the busy Manhattan street below.

He doesn't scream. He opens his mouth and any words are swept away by the slipstream. He looks up at Tony, looks up at the hovering, red-gold man looking down at him as he falls. The featureless strips of blue eyes.

This is real.

This is the first time he has felt real since he came out of the ice.

He closes his eyes as he falls-

\- and opens them as iron hands slam closed around his wrists.

 

* * *

 

Tony carries him back to the top of the tower. Drops him on the roof and lands.

For a moment, they only look at each other. Tony looks at him and-

Sees Steve.

He doesn't have many friends. He'd been congratulating him on making a new one- a full 50% improvement on his number of human friends. Steve- for all his secrets, was _nice_. Friendly, sweet, even cute.

Captain America.

Just thinking the _name_ draws his teeth out, makes him sweat and shake. He'd been a hero. Once. He'd had Cap toys and Cap posters and Cap books. But then-

God, hadn't Howard _loved_ Captain America? That creepy Cap room he had is probably still in the New York mansion Pepper is trying to sell. And after hearing how good and great and wonderful Captain America was from _Howard_ \- well, Tony had made certain assumptions about what sort of person he'd been.

He... hadn't expected him to be like Steve.

_He sounds like a complete failure of a human being_

But he hadn't known who Tony was talking about then. He hadn't known it was his friend.

Friend. He almost throws up. Howard's friends had been Obie and Vanko. He had a certain type. Maybe if Steve had been able to hide for long enough, he'd have shown that side of him too.

"You saved me." Steve says bluntly, as if he'd been thinking the same thing.

"Couldn't let you fall and smush innocent bystanders." Tony says flatly. "Pepper'd never forgive me for the PR."

Steve doesn't answer. Looks at him. He looks heavy and sad and- so _old_. How old is he? He must be near on a hundred.

For a moment, Tony wonders if it was true. If Steve had just- been afraid they'd treat him weirdly, or maybe think he was mad and call a shrink. If he really was that person he'd met at SHIELD, lost and confused and- alone. So utterly alone.

He looks at Tony. Tony can believe it. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding. Howard had tricked decent people too- okay, Fury wasn't exactly what he'd call decent, but he wasn't an Obie or Vanko. Maybe he'd kept up the show for Steve too.

Though it wouldn't explain why Howard had been such a fan of the guy.

He could be a nice guy. A nice guy, and so impossibly alone. Maybe the world had been the one right about Captain America. The question was, did Tony want to risk a Heat in the same building? Did his want to risk _his bots_ in the same building?

"Just- go away." It falls flat. Tony feels flat inside.

Steve's shoulders fall. He goes.

Tony catches his breath, looks at where he'd been standing. Closes his eyes. "Jarvis?"

“Yes Sir?”

"You knew?"

“I forced him to tell you the moment I knew.”

"Thanks." Tony sighs. "Maybe I should put you in a suit too."

“I am happy to serve as I am.”

"Should I kick him out?" Tony looks away.

“That- is up to you, Sir.” Jarvis' tone tells him what _he_ would like.

Tony stops, closes his eyes. It is up to him. It's a big fucking plug socket, and those are his fingers.

 

* * *

 

Steve takes his time packing his things. The clothes, the toothbrush. He looks at the letters. They are strewn across the bed. _Dear Bucky, I'm not sure where I am. Dear Bucky, I'm not sure if I can believe it. Dear Bucky. Dear Bucky. Dear Bucky._

_Dear Bucky, I made a friend today._

He throws them in the bin.

He walks out. He doesn't know where he is going. Maybe SHIELD will have him back. He isn't sure he wants to go. He thinks about Brooklyn. He wonders if that commune is still there. the little Omega commune two blocks away where he'd spent the cold, knife-edge winters that always felt they could be his last.

He looks at his hands, his body. Massive, muscled, deadly. A weapon he couldn't ever put away.  Threat he can never take back.

"Going somewhere?"

Steve starts. Tony is in the doorway. He's wearing a shirt and slacks. The strange blue glow filtering through the weave on his chest. He looks at Steve, pale. His hand glows blue.

"I don't want to-" he stops. "I didn't want you to feel-" he doesn't know how to say it.

"Have you even got anywhere to go?" It's accusing.

Steve sighs and rubs his face. "It doesn't matter. I won't be here. I'm sorry for lying."

"Stop." Tony doesn't move. The glow around his hand is brighter. Steve stops, steps back. "I've sent Dummy, Butterfingers and You somewhere safe."

"I wouldn't-"

"Save it." Tony shakes his head. "It's- up to you. If you want to stay-" Tony glances around, then shrugs. "Rhodey likes you. He still wants you on the team."

"What do you want?"

Tony shrugs. "I don't want to kick out someone who doesn't have anywhere to go."

"I don't need your charity."

"Okay, then I'd like to keep you where I can see you. Shit happens when people get me by surprise. Good luck trying that with Jarvis."

"And if I don't want to stay with your AI?"

"Here." Tony hands him an envelope.

Steve takes it. To his surprise, it doesn't explode. He opens it.

"It’s a bank account." Tony sighs, waves at the slip of plastic. "I set it up for you- fucking hard since Jarvis had to make up literally everything about you."

Steve pulls out a piece of paper. Stares at the number at the bottom. "Tony-"

"Oh can it." Tony groans. "You saved the fucking USA. The least we can fucking do is give you your back pay."

"This- I couldn't have-"

"Seventy years and change of hazard back pay- and I accounted for inflation."

Steve takes a breath, closes his eyes. "I can't take this."

"Yes." Tony stamps forwards, and closes his fingers firmly around the envelope. "You are fucking taking it. You can go and be a firefighter or a soldier or a fucking SHIELD agent. You can start a fucking Howard Stark fan club if you want- but don't expect me to fucking go near you again-"

"I wouldn't-"

"It's yours. It's up to you. Stay or go." Tony steps back, sighs.

Steve looks at him for a moment. Then he steps forwards, holds out the envelope.

"I told you to fucking take it-"

"I'm staying." Steve takes a breath. It's a stupid risk, but he can't run. This is his fault. He messed this up. He has to make this right.

His team. The one place he has in this world. He can't just go.

Tony looks at the envelope. Back up at him. "Okay." He sighs. "Keep the fucking money, it's yours anyway. A couple of ground rules for living in the tower though."

Steve nods.

"One. You do not go anywhere near my fucking workshop or you are out. Two. You never go near my bots or you are out. Three. You _ever_ threaten Jarvis- I don't care if he is talking about gassing you with deadly neurotoxin- you are _out._ Four." He holds up four fingers. "You never mention Howard. Or you're out."

Steve nods. "Do you have any other rules, Jarvis?" He looks up at the ceiling.

“If you ever attempt to harm Sir again. I will kill you myself.”

"That's fair." Steve looks at Tony. "I- I don't think I ever thanked you properly, for taking me in."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Tony waves his hand. "Shut up. Why are you being so nice? We're _threatening_ you."

"I- he was my friend, I don’t know what-" Tony holds up four fingers. Steve stops. "I mean, I'm sorry, and thank you again."

"Thank Rhodey." Tony pinches his nose. "It's either having you on our team, or SHIELD would bag you again. We didn't want to inflict that on anyone."

Steve smiles.

"This is dumb even for me." Tony shakes his head, then takes a deep breath and holds up his hand. "But - fingers? Meet socket."

 


End file.
